But he didn’t. He only thought more of her, for fighting back and making a life for herself despite taking so many horrible hits. He thought he’d made that clear to her last night. He’d done everything he could to make her feel cherished, cared for, and safe. He thought she’d finally relaxed enough to let him be there for her.
But not in the light of day, he supposed. He saw the panic in her eyes, and it made him want to punch the wall. “Julia, I’m not trying to manage your life. I’m not trying to tell you what to do.”
“Yes you are,” she countered.
“I’m not, really. If it came across like that, I’m sorry. Please, just listen to me. Okay?”
She didn’t say yes or no, but she didn’t move. Her eyes slid to his shoulder so she didn’t have to make eye contact.
“I know we said no strings, but . . .” He stared her down. “Now . . . maybe . . . I’m seeing some strings here. I mean, I’m sorry, but anyone would have compassion for another person who went through what you did last night.”
She gasped in what seemed to him like horror. Her eyes widened, and she staggered back a step. “You felt sorry for me,” she whispered raggedly. “That was a pity fuck last night. Oh God.”
“No! No, it wasn’t. Don’t you dare say things like that.” He grasped her arms, but made sure to do so gently. “Julia, that bastard shook you up. He brought back terrible memories. I learned things I probably never would have if it hadn’t been for that situation. Now you’re regretting it. I get that. But you don’t have to run out of here like a bat out of hell, you’re safe with me. We’re . . . I want you . . .” To give me—us—a chance. “I want you to feel safe with me. I’m feeling superprotective of you this morning.”
She stopped wiggling under his hands and looked at him.
“I’m not asking a thing of you,” he said. “Just . . . that you don’t leave like this.” His eyes bore into hers. “Last night—I’m talking about the part between us, here—that was . . . beautiful. Don’t end a night like that with a move like this.”
Her eyes went a little round at that. She drew a shaky breath and stayed silent, but didn’t move to leave. Maybe he was getting through to her.
He relaxed his grip and rubbed her arms. “Stay a while. I’ll order up some breakfast. Eat something. Then, if you want to go, you can go. I just . . .” Looking down at her, he realized he had no idea what was going through her head. The kinder he was to her, the more she bucked him. Sad frustration permeated him and he sighed in resignation. He was a fool; he wasn’t going to undo years of emotional damage with one gorgeous night. What was he thinking? He released her arms. “You know what? I’m not begging here. You want to go? Go. Leave if you need to. But just know I’d’ve liked it if you said good-bye before you did, instead of slipping out without a word.”
“You’re right,” she whispered mournfully. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” I love you. Just let me in. He wanted to say it so much, but swallowed it. “I’m going to order up breakfast. I’m ordering for two. Then I’m going to take a fast shower. When I come out, if you’re still here, I’d like for you to join me. Your call.”
She didn’t say anything, but looked into his eyes and gave a timid nod.
He quickly kissed her forehead, then strode away from her, went to the bathroom, and shut the door. Exhaling a deep sigh, he leaned back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut.
Goddammit, she was hurting. Her usual self-confidence had been shaken, her shields hit, and she looked plain scared. He hated that for her. He hated the pain in her eyes. The doubt, mistrust, panic, and worst of all, a hint of self-loathing. After the day on his yacht, he thought he’d broken through her walls a little bit. Enough for her to relax around him, anyway. Not anymore. Last night’s trip down memory lane had messed her up, and she was scrambling to both protect herself and shut him out. It was sadly obvious to him, and seeing all that in his strong, bold redhead filled him with anguish. He ached for her.
As for her comment about his trying to manage her life, it still bothered him. That wasn’t what he’d been trying to do. Was it? He scrubbed a hand over his face. Since seeing Liam looming over her, Dane had felt a resounding need to protect her that had walloped him and wouldn’t stop. Someone had threatened her, and every prehistoric male stereotype he-man instinct had kicked right in.
And then in bed, last night . . . she had drunk in his affection like someone who’d been dying of thirst. She’d let him be gentle, shower her with tenderness . . . and he’d realized then, when he looked deep into her beautiful eyes as he slipped inside her, that he was totally head over heels in love with her. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, as their eyes had locked as he moved inside her, he’d seen a hint of deeper feelings in her eyes too.
Now, she was trying to push him away. Neither of them was feeling sassy and playful, as they usually were together. She was scared and scattered, he was confused and fiercely protective. It was new territory, and he didn’t know the landscape. All he knew was he cared. No, one other thing he knew: the more he showed her that, the more she’d push him away.
He’d have to play it cool. Keep his feelings hidden, not scare her off. For now, that was how he’d have to handle it, until she was acting and feeling more like herself again. Then . . . then maybe he could find a way to tell her how he really felt. In the meantime: damage control.
With a grunt of frustration, he turned and used the hotel phone on the wall to order room service, then stepped into the shower.
Ten minutes later, dressed in clothes he kept at the suite, he ventured into the sitting room. To his relief and delight, Julia sat on the sofa, staring across the room out the window, appearing calm and untroubled. Just looking at her, his heart did a quiet flip in his chest. “Hey.”
Her eyes flicked to him. “Hey.”
“You stayed.”
“I was hungry. You promised me breakfast.”
She wanted to play it cool and easy? Fine by him. He didn’t care. She’d stayed. “I’m hungry too. It should be here any—” A knock on the door cut him off, and he grinned. “Minute.” He went to the door, let the employee wheel in a covered tray, thanked him and slipped him some cash, and turned to Julia. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I ordered a couple of things. Hope you like something here. If not, just fake it and eat it anyway.”
Julia watched as he lifted the silver domes to reveal mounds of scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast, a plate of mouthwatering strips of bacon, and a big bowl of cut fruit salad. Her stomach actually growled. “Looks fantastic to me,” she said.
“Good. Coffee?” Before she could answer, he lifted a small silver pot and poured the steaming ambrosia into the two empty ceramic cups.
She rose from the couch and stood at his side. The owner of the hotel was serving her. Dane kept showing her over and over, in tiny ways, that contrary to her initial belief, he was no typical spoiled rich boy. That he was his own man, and a really good, decent one at that.
A quick scan of the tray, and she plucked two sugar packets from the tiny holder. “You tipped that guy.”
“Huh?” Dane blinked, thrown by her random comment.
“The bellhop who brought the food. You tipped him.”
“Of course.”
She gave him a long look. “You own this hotel. You sign his paychecks.”
“So?” Dane stirred some cream into his coffee. “He did me a service. I tipped him. That’s what you do.”
“That’s what most people do, yeah. You don’t have to.”
“Bullshit.” Dane snorted and slanted her a look. “I’m not an asshole. You tip people, period.”
She had to smile. “You’re decent, Boss. Very decent.”
“Glad you noticed.” His eyes sobered as he looked at her. “And if you noticed, why were you trying to bolt before?”
She winced. “I’m sorry about that. I just . . .” Her voice trailed off and her cheeks felt hot.
He shook his head h
ard, to cut her off. “Know what? Not now. It’s fine.” He waved a hand as if to dismiss the topic. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I’m glad you chose to stay. End of story.” He reached into the bowl and plucked out a cube of honeydew, and popped it into his mouth. “Mmmm, it’s perfect. Here, try.” Still chewing, he took another piece and held it up to her.
Unable to resist his easy charm, she opened her mouth and let him feed it to her. The melon was sweet and juicy. “God, yeah. Delicious.”
He stared at her mouth for a second, then leaned in for a quick kiss. His tongue swept over her lips, licking, tasting. “Yup,” he murmured against her mouth. “Delicious.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Sweet talker.”
“Sometimes. Is it working?” He grinned, then pushed the tray closer to the couch and fixed her a plate, heaping on the eggs and bacon, arguing with her when she said no to the toast. Then he fixed himself a plate and sat beside her.
As they ate, he told her about the upcoming business trip he had to take. He was leaving on Sunday afternoon, going to check in on his hotels in Chicago and Detroit, and would be gone for about two weeks. He talked about the trip, the things he had to do in the hotels, and she let her eyes roam over him.
She didn’t usually tell him, but she loved looking at him, listening to him, being near him. He was so easy to be with. And so handsome right then in a simple, clean white polo shirt and navy slacks. She admired how he was so comfortable in his own skin, so laid back in the way he sat, talked, moved . . . he had that aura of ease and natural charm that made people gravitate to him, want to be around him. God knows she wanted to be around him. And she’d almost left for good only minutes before. She was an idiot. A scared idiot.
She was glad he’d called her on her bullshit. She was glad she’d apologized, steeled herself up, and stayed. She’d done it for him, sucking up her fears, because she’d caught the betrayed look in his eyes when she’d headed for the door. It had made her insides unravel. He looked so hurt....
God, she was such a bitch sometimes! Why? Why still, when he’d always been good to her? He hadn’t been good to her last night out of pity. He’d done it because he was a seriously decent man, and he’d wanted to comfort her. To treat her with care and make her feel better. Which, truthfully, had been exactly what she’d needed. She’d loved every moment of it. She’d gone over the edge of the cliff and fallen in love with him last night. How could she not?
She had to stop punishing Dane for the sins of other men. It wasn’t fair. To either of them. What he’d said was true: he wasn’t Max, or Liam, and it wasn’t fair to put him on their shelf. He deserved better.
She needed to cut back on the sharp quips, the running for the door, the standoffishness, and start reciprocating his goodness. It was the least she could do for him. She’d never tell him she had true feelings for him, much less that she loved him, but she could at least show it by being sweeter. The words would never be necessary if she did that. And she wanted to do that. She liked him. She really did.
He smiled at something she said and her heart sighed. That smile. Like sunlight. He was like sunlight, bright and radiant and hard to look at without feeling you had to shield your eyes. He was smart, fun, kind, charming, considerate, smoking hot . . . oh, yeah, she was crazy about him. Head over heels in love, God help her.
But she could bury her true feelings for him. She could, and she should. All she could do was enjoy the ride while it lasted. Savor it while they were still involved, for however long that would be. Until he got bored, or decided she wasn’t right for him after all.
The thought of it ending made her heart wince.
But one thing he’d been right about: she was a better person than how she’d been acting. Time to start being that to him. Right now.
“Thank you for breakfast,” she said softly. “And thank you for last night. For coming in and handling Liam, so I didn’t have to. And for treating me with such kindness, both during and after, up here. I . . . I needed that, I admit it. You were right. And . . . you were wonderful. I won’t forget it. Thank you for that, Dane. All of it.”
His fork stopped halfway to his mouth and he stared at her. As he lowered his hand to his plate, the corner of his mouth turned up and his eyes sparkled. “You’re very welcome. I’m glad I helped. I’m glad that you let me.”
“Me too.”
They gazed into each other’s eyes. The air around them was charged, thick with unsaid words and sparks and that pull that always seemed to envelop them when they were close. She wanted to crawl into his lap, but didn’t move a muscle.
He smiled at her and took the last bite of his eggs. “So, I’ll text you while I’m away. Should be two weeks at the least, three weeks at the most.”
“Okay.”
“Tonio will keep an eye out. You know. Just don’t worry about anything, all right?”
She blinked. “I hadn’t even thought of that yet. Yeah, all right. Thanks for that.”
His eyes had softened, but they suddenly lit with wickedness. “Two or three weeks without you in my bed? Damn. I’ll have to sustain myself by imagining how steamy hot it’ll be when I come back.” His grin turned devilish. “Mmmm yeah.”
She laughed. “Sounds good.”
“It does, right?” He tossed her a wink and reached for his coffee. “Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone.”
She snorted and said, “I think I’ll manage.”
But a tiny pang hit her heart as she realized she would miss him. Damn. God, she was in so much trouble. So much for no strings.
Chapter Fifteen
The hotel didn’t feel the same without Dane in it. Not that he was there every minute of every day anyway, but he had been there for some amount of time every day since before the opening. Not to mention that since then, he’d been there almost every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night without fail. And had spent almost all of them over the past month or so with her.
It had only been a few days since he’d left for Chicago, but Julia felt the absence. It was strange; as if a light had dimmed, or the party had died down and gotten boring. She felt the lack of him.
She missed him.
She hated to admit it, but she missed him a lot.
And when he texted her, which was once or twice a day, they’d fall into a short but charming text exchange that had her smiling, all warm and fuzzy inside. It was a bittersweet feeling. And the depth of her growing feelings for him scared her to death.
On that Sunday afternoon, she was glad for the distraction of a barbecue dinner at Randi’s house. She and Stephen and their kids were like family to her. They were certainly the closest thing she had to it since cutting ties with her own years ago. Thirteen-year-old Mike and ten-year-old Allison even called her Aunt Julia; they were the nephew and niece of her heart.
She helped Randi cut up and prepare food, hung out with the kids, and enjoyed a few glasses of vodka and lemonade. Later in the day, when the kids went to their rooms to get on their computers, she went and sat under the shade of the large oak in the corner of the backyard. The air had cooled a bit, and she just enjoyed the scenery around her as she tried not to think about Dane. She’d been doing way too much of that lately.
Randi emerged from the back screen door, a glass in her hand identical to Julia’s. She walked across the grass and plunked herself down beside her best friend. “Hello there.”
“Hiya.”
“It’s nice here in the shade. You’re a smart cookie.”
Julia smiled and clinked her glass to Randi’s. They sipped.
“Having a nice time, I hope?” Randi stretched her legs out in front of her and crossed them at the ankles.
“I am. Thanks for inviting me over.”
“My pleasure. Glad you’re enjoying.” Randi took another sip. “So, now we can really talk. Any news on Liam?”
“No.” Julia felt a tiny chill whisper inside her and she swatted it away. “He’s stayed away.”
“Thank God.”
“Yeah. He knows he got off easy, I don’t think he’d push it and come back.”
“He better not. I’ll kill him myself,” Randi muttered.
“Such a good best friend. Always volunteering to help bury the body.”
“Absolutely.” She clinked her glass to Julia’s, and they sipped again. They sat together in content silence. The tranquil sound of birdsong floated on the warm evening air.
“I’m in love with Dane,” Julia blurted out.
Randi burst out laughing. “Gee, no kidding. Duh.”
“I’m that obvious?” Julia moaned.
“To me, you are. But I know you very well.” Randi shook her head with a pitying look. “You poor thing. You’re a mess, aren’t you?”
“God, I am,” Julia groaned with self-loathing. “It’s awful. I think about him all the time. How did that happen?”
“Aww, honey.” Randi put her arm around Julia’s shoulders and squeezed. “You have good taste, at least.”
“Yeah, well, how do I know?” Julia asked. “My judgment in men has always been lousy. Worse than lousy. Stupid and destructive.” Her head dropped onto Randi’s shoulder. “What if I’m wrong again?”
“You’re not,” Randi assured her. “Not this time. Seriously.”
Julia huffed out a sigh. “He’s kind of wonderful, isn’t he?”
“More than kind of, honey. My goodness. You hit the jackpot this time.” She squeezed her friend again as she added, “But so has he. You are the jackpot, Jules.”
“He saw Liam. He knows about all that. . . .” Julia lifted her head to rest it against the trunk of the tree and stare up at the sky. She sighed again, a soft sound of resignation this time. “He knows about Max, and even a little about Colin. I . . . I don’t know what he thinks of me now. Like, deep down.”
“What do you care what he thinks of all that?” Randi asked.
Julia felt her face flush and she murmured, “What if now he thinks I’m . . . you know, trashy? Or thinks less of me, or that I—”
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