When I didn’t move, her mouth started to twitch. She was mad again. I’d made her mad. I always made her mad.
My stomach started to hurt.
“What’s the matter?” she said. “Don’t you like to play? What kind of kid doesn’t like to play?” She pointed to the jungle gym and the red tube slide, where a few other kids were laughing and racing around. Even through the glass wall separating the play area from the rest of the restaurant, I could see the smashed French fries on the mat.
I wanted to be a good girl, but I didn’t want her to leave. I hated it when she went off with her friends. Sometimes she came back happy. Most times she came back tired, or mean, or bruised up. I didn’t want to play. I just wanted to go home.
She pinched my elbow, and I started to cry.
“You love your mama, don’t you? You want to make me happy? Then for God’s sake, go play. And don’t talk to strangers. The last thing I need is someone snatching you.”
I wiped my nose on my sleeve, trying to be brave. I looked up at the other parents, scared they might try to kidnap me.
“Hush, hush,” she said, and pulled me into her arms. She squeezed too tight, but I didn’t want her to let go. “Mama won’t let that happen as long as you’re a good girl and you do what she says.”
She let go and swatted me on the rear as I walked toward the glass door.
“Oh, and Anna?”
I looked back, ready to sprint back if she said it was okay.
“Don’t you run away.”
*
I woke with a start, swallowing the air like I’d been held under water. I thrashed against the covers that bound me, damp with sweat. The room was dark and unfamiliar. I wasn’t alone. Someone’s hands squeezed my shoulders before I scrambled away.
“Anna,” he said. “Anna. Baby, wake up.”
I inhaled fast and breathed in the warm, familiar scent. I was at Alec’s apartment. I’d fallen asleep. The fog in my brain cleared quickly, but my chest ached with the memory.
“Easy,” he said. “You’re okay. It’s me. It’s Alec.”
I was kneeling, and he was sitting up across from me. Neither of us was wearing clothes. Though the lights were off, the blinds from the sliding glass door were pushed open, and the moonlight cast shadows across his body. I’d pulled the sheets up over my chest, as if the thin material was enough to shield me from my nightmares.
I was cold. Freezing. That’s what the past did every time it broke through the barrier. It hollowed me out and chilled me to the bone.
He reached for me slowly, and his gentle touch warmed my cheek. My arms lowered.
“Anna, you’re shaking.” He moved closer. The concern was clear in his voice.
I didn’t want his concern. I wanted his warmth. I wanted to forget my past, my dreams, where he’d been. I wanted him to take away the cold.
I leaned forward and kissed him. He didn’t respond at first, so I snaked my fingers through his hair and pulled him closer. I kissed him hard, and when his lips parted, I pressed my tongue into his mouth, shuddering with the heat I found there.
“Anna,” he leaned away, searching my eyes for an answer I couldn’t give. “What are you . . . ?”
“Please,” I said. I laid down, pulling him over me. He hovered over my body, weight on his elbows, knees bent. I wrapped my legs around his hips and pressed our bodies together. He was hard and I was grateful for it; I could feel him nudging at my entrance and prepared myself for a rough entry. I wasn’t wet and ready like usual, but there wasn’t time for that now. I could already feel the freeze taking me.
“Slow down,” he whispered. He tried again to meet my eyes, but I looked away. I reached for his cock, but he stopped my hand.
“Are you crying?” he asked.
“I need this,” I said. “Please.” I hated that my voice sounded thin enough to break. “I’m . . .”
“What?” he asked, face inches from mine. “Talk to me.”
“Cold.” I closed my eyes tightly. “Empty.”
He was perfectly still; I could feel his gaze on me. I knew he was confused. He was probably wondering how he could back out of this without me going psycho on him.
Desperate, I twisted my hips, so that I was rubbing against him. He faltered, giving a soft groan. His shoulders loosened. His forehead rested on my collarbone.
“Hold on to me,” he whispered.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, feeling my weakened muscles tremble. I spread my legs to give him room to position himself between them.
“Thank you,” I said.
He sat up, pulling me onto his lap. I straddled him, his erection pressed between our stomachs. I held him so tightly I didn’t have to see his face; my chin was on his shoulder. Finally, he was going to chase away the darkness.
“Anna, I can’t.”
I shook harder. My face was wet; there was nothing to wipe my tears on now, and they slid down my cheeks to his back.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said. “But I won’t do it if you’re too scared to look at me. I can’t.”
My frozen heart was cracking. It hurt.
I shivered. “I’m cold.”
“Then let me hold you,” he said.
His arms were solid, safe, and warm. I wept silently, and he asked no questions, and when the tears were dry, his fingers combed through my hair and ran up and down my spine. An hour or more passed, and when I was strong again, I kissed him, and he responded in the same language—whispers and sighs and soft touches. He made love to me slowly, holding my gaze as he burned away the final bit of ice clinging to my bones. Only at the last moment did he bury his face in my neck and breathe my name.
Afterward, he cleaned us both with a warm towel, and then pulled me back against his chest. It wasn’t until his breathing grew heavy and even that I allowed myself to admit the truth: I loved him. I loved him and he would leave me, just like my mom had left my dad. Just like Amy’s husband had left Paisley and her. Just like my birth mother had left again and again and again.
The end of us had already begun.
One more night, I promised, and then I’d leave. I had to go before it was too late. Before I couldn’t. With that promise echoing in my head, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, holding his arm against my chest like a lifeline.
Eighteen
I couldn’t break up with him in the morning. It was a blur anyway—I was exhausted, and he had to be back at Mr. Stein’s early. We didn’t talk about what had happened during the night, and I was grateful for that. He dropped me off at my apartment and promised to call when he had a chance. Part of me wondered if he was feeling the same itch to run that I was.
I was grateful for the distraction at work. As Mr. Stein had requested, I had an appointment this evening with him—the time was sent via text by Ms. Rowe. But until then, I had eight hours to figure out what to do about Alec Flynn.
Ten o’clock found me slumped in Amy’s chair, getting my hair twisted into a messy over-the-shoulder braid while I peeled the cardboard sleeve off my coffee.
“Are you going to tell me, or do I get to guess?” Amy finally said.
“I love him,” I blurted out, without looking up. “And I’m going to break up with him tonight.”
“That’s a little confusing.” Amy added the finishing touches to my hair, as if I’d just told her it looked like it might rain outside.
“You’re telling me.”
“If you love him, why are you breaking up with him?”
“Because it’s the smart thing to do.”
“Oh,” she nodded knowingly. “Was that in your horoscope? Bad love in Mercury’s ninth house, better break up with the hot guy you’re dating.”
I gave her a nasty look. “Don’t be mean.”
“Don’t be stupid.” She frowned. “Look, I love you, but you can’t keep dropping everything every time things start going well. Most people wait until they go bad before doing that.”
“I�
�m not most people,” I said.
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “I know. But sooner or later you’re going to get tired of running.”
I pondered this as I made my way toward the front desk to greet my first client. Derrick, looking very fierce in his retro black boots and striped tee, informed me I had been double-booked at eleven, but that one of my clients could come back during lunch if I was willing to skip my break, which I was. The busier I was, the better.
“Now that that’s settled,” he said, pulling me off to the side. “I saw your sexy client last night.”
I groaned, taking this for one of Derrick’s sarcastic jokes. “Melvin Herman came here?”
“No.” Derrick shook his head emphatically. “Not Melvin. The other guy. Tall, hair like an Abercrombie model, perfect teeth.”
I swallowed. Alec did have perfect teeth.
“Alec Flynn,” I said.
“That’s it. Shame he isn’t gay; he was getting cozy with some redhead.”
“He was, was he?” I muttered.
I realized Charlotte wasn’t the only redhead in the world, but it seemed a little too coincidental they’d be out together after the last time I saw them at Mr. Stein’s house.
I busied myself straightening the comment cards. “Where did you see him?”
“At Peaches, down on the waterfront. Shady place, not my usual scene, but I like the bartender. We met last week at . . .”
“What time?” I asked.
“Oh God.” Derrick scratched his temple. “Late. I don’t know, it was after midnight. Maybe one? Why?”
I had a sinking feeling in my gut, and was almost glad for it. This definitely made my decision easier.
“No reason,” I said as my client arrived.
So maybe I’d planned on walking away from him anyway, but I would be damned if he was going to humiliate me.
Alec Flynn was a dead man.
*
By the time I pulled into Mr. Stein’s estate I was ready to rock. The hurt I’d felt when talking with Derrick had been squashed by anger—anger that had festered all afternoon until I was counting down the minutes until I could see Alec in person. I knew I should just cut my losses and walk away, but I couldn’t. Not when he’d made it abundantly clear that we were exclusive and Charlotte was only work.
He’d texted twice, but I hadn’t responded. I couldn’t without sounding pissed off, and I didn’t want to give him a chance to come up with an excuse. I wanted to see his face when he found out I knew he was a liar.
But as I walked up to the house, I faltered. I thought of how I’d met him on the street outside these walls, and how we’d had this unreal, intense sexual chemistry right from the beginning. I remembered the first time we’d been together, and how he’d made me feel things I hadn’t thought possible. I stopped before I made it to the front steps, feeling like the massage table over my shoulder weighed a thousand pounds.
“What am I doing here?” I murmured.
My skin prickled with the awareness that someone was watching me. I turned my head quickly and saw Bobby leaning against the black SUV parked on the opposite side of the fountain. He didn’t move, just continued to stare at me in that way that made me wish I was wearing a hooded parka and snow pants instead of my thin black yoga pants and fitted T-shirt.
“Creep,” I said quietly, and climbed the steps.
Ms. Rowe checked me off her electronic schedule and ushered me upstairs to the balcony. Alec wasn’t there, but as I finished setting up, I eyed the security cameras and wondered if he could see me.
Mr. Stein’s massage went by excruciatingly slowly. He didn’t speak. I should have been glad for that after yesterday’s session, but instead the silence made me antsy. Part of me wanted to ask about Charlotte, but I figured that wasn’t exactly professional.
I was almost finished when the balcony door opened and Alec appeared.
Seeing him made my chest hurt. He was painfully gorgeous, and with that dark possessive look in his eyes it was impossible not to feel drawn to him. I almost felt bad for us. We were good together when I wasn’t weighed down with baggage and he wasn’t being a lying, cheating man-whore.
As he watched me slide my hands over Maxim Stein’s back, his fists bunched and then deliberately opened, making my anger rekindle. He didn’t get to be jealous after he’d left me naked in the middle of the night to be with another woman.
I focused on Mr. Stein’s neck and tried to act like Alec wasn’t there.
After a few moments, he cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, boss.”
Mr. Stein turned his head so he was facing Alec, but motioned me to continue with one hand.
“Is everything ready?” he asked Alec.
I moved down Mr. Stein’s oil-slicked back, watching Alec from under my eyelashes. His gaze was flicking between the balcony and us, and through his crisp, button-up shirt I could see that his shoulder muscles were tense. His discomfort wasn’t about me, I realized, but Stein. I could almost feel the strain in the space between them. Strange, considering Alec had said the man was like a father to him. It occurred to me I’d never seen them together.
Alec nodded. “You sure you don’t want your nephew on this one?”
“If I’d wanted him on it, he’d be on it. I need this to go smoothly.”
I didn’t know who Stein’s nephew was, but it didn’t sound like the boss had much faith in him. As I moved around to the other side of the table, he caught my forearm.
Alec stepped forward, eyes on where Stein and I made contact. For the first time I met his gaze, saw his jaw twitch and his eyes narrow, and then the way his expression smoothed to become unreadable.
“Stay on that side,” Stein said, oblivious to Alec’s concern. “I liked what you were doing there.”
“Please,” I reminded him, removing my arm from his grip.
Stein smirked.
“Please,” he repeated. “I’ll say this much, Alec, your girl isn’t afraid to say what’s on her mind.”
“No, she’s not,” Alec agreed. It baffled me that Stein couldn’t sense Alec’s discomfort. The air felt thin enough to snap in half.
“And she gives one hell of a massage.”
“I wouldn’t know,” muttered Alec.
I wasn’t sure if that was meant to make me feel guilty or not.
“Keep me updated,” Stein told him, an obvious dismissal. “I’ll see you in a few days when you get back.”
I tried not to let my surprise show. Alec hadn’t told me he was going away. But he hadn’t told me he was going to a bar with Charlotte, either.
He seemed torn on whether to stay or to go. Finally, he left the way he’d come, leaving us to finish.
The second Mr. Stein had cleared the balcony after his massage, Alec returned.
I was kneeling on the floor, gathering my supplies, and he reached under the center of the massage table to undo the latches so it would collapse in half. It bothered me that he was helping, that he was going to try to pretend everything was normal.
“If Max wasn’t the boss, I might’ve had to kick his ass back there,” he grumbled.
“It’s my job,” I said sharply.
“Even so, it’s not going down as one of my favorite moments.”
I threw the water basin into my duffle, where it made a satisfying clank against the wooden deck of the balcony, and then I stood and rounded on him.
“Was last night one of your favorite moments?”
One of his brows cocked. “Which part?”
I shook my head, snatching the table from him as best I could. It was big and clunky, though, and ended up tipping over onto the deck. I was so steamed I could have kicked it.
“Let’s see,” I hissed. “The part after you almost screwed me, but before you actually screwed me.”
He moved toward me quickly, making my breath catch in my throat. Before I knew it, he’d backed me into the balcony railing, and I was gripping his biceps, dizzy from the
height.
“I don’t remember us screwing last night,” he said quietly. “That was something else. And if I recall, you didn’t seem to mind.”
I couldn’t look at him.
He leaned forward, lips brushing along my temple. My breath came faster against my will.
“If you want to know what I was doing with Charlotte, just say so.”
I pushed him back, throat burning. “You’re not even going to deny you were with her.”
He gave me a dangerous smirk. “Did you want me to?”
“No.” I frowned. Crossed my arms over my chest. “Yes. Shit. I don’t know. What were you doing with Charlotte?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
I threw my hands up and laughed coldly.
“Of course, you can’t,” I said. “You know, I actually believe that you don’t want to share me. But the same rules don’t apply to you, do they? You can have me all for yourself, but the second you see some hot cougar you’re all over it.”
His jaw flexed. “I told you, my relationship with her is strictly professional.”
I planted my heels and glared at him. “I don’t believe you.”
“Careful,” he warned. “You know what it does to me when you get all worked up.”
My skin flushed, and I felt that deep, familiar ache inside of me. I turned my back on him before I did something stupid like kiss him. “This is fun for you, isn’t it?”
I heard him approach behind me, and when his hands slid down my arms, my muscles warmed, and relaxed. His voice was quiet when he spoke.
“I told you I’m not with anyone else. You’ll just have to trust me.”
“How am I supposed to trust you when you don’t tell me anything?”
He glanced up at the overhang. A security camera rested there and was pointed directly at us.
“We can’t talk about this here,” he said.
I took a step back and picked up my duffle bag, holding it in front of me like a shield. If Alec was with me, either I was being taped or someone else—probably Bobby—was watching.
“I’ll walk you out,” he said.
I let him escort me to my car, but even then I didn’t feel as if our conversation was private. Dark emotions swirled inside me. I couldn’t be so close to him without my heart hurting, but he was wrong for me in so many ways. He couldn’t even be honest about what he was doing with another woman in the middle of the night.
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