Bobby reached for Ali’s hand under the table and she pretended not to notice, taking a sip of her wine instead as she smiled at something the man beside Bobby's father said. She had no idea what turn the conversation had taken, but she’d learned over the past year that her role was to look pretty and not say too much, so she kept the wine flowing and the smile plastered on her face. Across the table her future mother-in-law did the same, quietly sipping her gin and tonic, her pale eyes fixed on her husband as if whatever he was droning on and on about was the most fascinating thing in the world.
“Excuse me,” Ali murmured quietly, discreetly placing her napkin on her chair and slipping away from the table. Bobby spared her a glance and she gave him a reassuring smile. It wasn’t like she was integral to the conversation. They probably wouldn’t even realize she was gone.
In the ladies’ lounge she held a cool towel to her neck and stared at herself in the mirror. This is what it will be like for the rest of your life, she told her miserable-looking reflection. Boring dinners and expensive clothes and a husband who gets more and more like his father every day. Her stomach clenched and she took a few deep breaths though her nose. Can you really do this?
It hadn’t always been this way. A popular state senator from a political family, Carmac Dawson had groomed his oldest son Kip from an early age. Kip’s political career was their father’s greatest priority, and Bobby had gone on to law school in relative obscurity from the public eye.
When Bobby introduced himself the night they met, Ali was already quite familiar with his brother’s meteoric rise in local politics. Kip Dawson was something of a state hero—a young, dashing Republican candidate with solid family values and a strong southern pedigree. The Dawson name was to Texas what the Kennedy name was to Massachusetts, and Ali almost turned Bobby down because of it. She made it clear immediately that she hated the thought of public life, and he’d grinned as he told her there was no chance of that ever happening for him. She’d shocked herself by agreeing to a date. And then a second date.
Bobby had surprised her by being far more down-to-earth and civic-minded than she had envisioned when they met. It was effortless to be attracted to his easy confidence, and when he told her on their fourth date that he planned to marry her, she laughed and was pleased that he took it not as an offense but as a challenge. Without much discussion, they eased into happy coupledom.
She loved Bobby despite every attempt not to, and when she brought him home her parents instantly forgave all her past transgressions. Dating boys from the wrong side of the tracks, dropping away from high society, moving to the ranch Gran left her instead of selling the valuable land to one of her father’s wealthy developer friends—they were all swept under the rug in favor of her accomplishment. Even her work with the underprivileged children in their community—which they deemed liberal nonsense and a waste of her time—no longer came under fire at family dinners. Bobby’s presence in her life changed all that.
The next year was the accident, and everything changed again. Kip had only been two years older than Bobby. His death had devastated his younger brother, who went from being the shadow son to the center of his parent’s universe in one terrible day. When they emerged from their shock and grief six months later, the elder Dawsons had a new agenda: to slide Bobby into Kip’s political path and continue building the dynasty.
So what could Ali say to the man she loved when he looked at her with troubled eyes and told her he was going to run for office? When he wrapped his arms around her and whispered My father finally cares, this is so important to him, I have to do this—could she really remind him that she couldn’t live that life?
The Bobby she’d fallen in love with had aspirations of a small law firm of his own. They’d envisioned a low-key life, eating dinner together every night and raising a couple of children. After the accident, small law firm aspirations became city council reality, and their quiet life became astonishingly public. Ali had been photographed more times in the past six months than she had ever been, especially after the engagement announcement, which had been carefully timed to coincide with a campaign press release.
It all made her want to scream.
“Ma'am?” The washroom attendant offered her another cool towel and Ali smiled gratefully. The older Latina had the tired eyes of a woman accustomed to serving others for a living, the same quiet pride she remembered in Alejandro’s mother, who cleaned houses to supplement her husband’s small business income. Ali should have felt fortunate that she would never have to worry about money and that her own children would go to college without aging herself prematurely through years of physical labor in the process. But somehow it felt wrong to celebrate a life she didn’t agree with and hadn’t chosen.
I can’t do this. She sank onto the couch and choked back a sob. The towel shook in her trembling hands and she willed herself not to break down. There was no way she could go through with it, but the wedding was in less than three months. She couldn’t back out, not now. Just the thought of it squeezed the air from her lungs.
I’ll just tell Bobby I want to postpone it till next year. I’ll say I need the time to get the program up and running so I can—
But the excuses sounded ridiculous, even in her own head. She couldn’t postpone the wedding; it would have to be canceled. She would have to be honest with him.
“Alaine?” She looked up as her future mother-in-law rounded the corner, her golden hair impeccably coiffed, her cream-colored dress as fresh-looking as the moment she’d put it on. Ali wished she had the kind of relationship with Cecile that allowed for honest conversation. Would it be different if she could confess her fears to the mother of the man she loved, a woman who knew too well the sacrifices of the life she was about to live?
“Are you feeling unwell?” Cecile bent over Ali, looking into her eyes.
“A bit run down is all.” A half-truth seemed the best approach, but Ali realized her mistake when the older woman straightened and frowned.
“It’s been nearly twenty minutes,” Cecile chastised. “Bobby’s quite worried, and we can’t have him distracted from our guests. You can rest later this evening.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ali rose and the tired bathroom attendant materialized from wherever she’d discreetly tucked herself to take the held-out towel. Without sparing a glance in the woman’s direction, Cecile dropped a ten dollar bill in the glass bowl on the counter. Ali followed her out. When she looked back to smile at the attendant, she saw pity in the woman’s eyes.
CHAPTER SIX
Ali and Bobby had been at breakfast for forty minutes and Bobby had taken three phone calls. In between calls he’d tried to tell her about some weapons prevention initiative that Cormac had organized for him with the State’s Attorney’s office. He’d told her far less about the initiative itself than about the publicity that Carmac had arranged. He was in the middle of telling her about an appearance they were going to make at an elementary school when she suddenly realized she couldn’t do it, not for one second more.
“I can’t do this.” She tried to set her fork down carefully, but her hands trembled so violently she dropped it, and it clattered into her plate loudly enough to get his attention.
Bobby blinked at her, blank confusion all over his face. “Can’t do what, Sugar?”
“This. The wedding. This life. I can’t. I just can’t.”
“Where’s this coming from?”
She shook her head.
He covered her hand with his. “Do you need to talk to someone?”
She shook her head again. “Not someone. I need to talk to you.”
“Well, okay…” He still looked baffled. “Let’s talk, then.”
“This isn’t what I wanted. Politics. You know that, right?”
Reluctantly he replied, “Yes, I know. But you’ve been great about it.”
“This isn’t the life I planned. I know it’s not the life you planned, either, but you seem to be okay with heading in
that direction. And I’m just not. I want to keep my ranch. I want to still teach, and I never want to attend another political function again as long as I live.” There, I said it. I can’t believe I said it.
She was shaking and frustrated, and all he did was put his best reassuring smile on. “I get that you’re feeling nervous, but let’s put things into perspective, Sugar.”
“There’s nothing to—” she waved her hands in exasperation. “This isn’t what we planned! I love you, but everything is… wrong.”
“It might not have been the original plan, but we have to work with what we’re given here, Ali. We just have to compromise. Make a few sacrifices.”
“Except that I’m the one doing all the sacrificing. I keep sacrificing and sacrificing, and I’m afraid—” She bit her lip. “Bobby, I’m afraid if I make one more concession I’m going to just disappear. And no disrespect to your Mama—but I don’t want her life. I want my own life, the one we planned.”
Bobby’s face screwed tight and he took a long swill of his coffee. When he finally spoke his voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. Suddenly he was Robert Dawson the politician, and not Bobby her fiancé. “You’re not the only one making sacrifices, Ali,” he said. “My brother is dead. The only way I can keep his memory alive, the only way I can honor all the good he did, is to do this.”
She shook her head. “No, Bobby,” she said softly. “The good he did speaks for itself. It isn’t your responsibility to live his life. You have to live your own.”
He picked at his eggs with his fork as he searched her eyes.
“You’re turning into someone I don’t even know anymore,” she said sadly. “You’re stressed, and irritable, you drink too much, and you don’t sleep well anymore. I can’t remember the last time I saw you happy. When did you last have a really good laugh? You mean to tell me all this is worth it?”
He held his gaze and insisted, “There’s a greater good involved here. I can’t just think about myself. Not now.”
“Bobby, for cryin’ out loud, yes you can! And I need to think about myself as well. I don’t feel good giving up on the things I’ve worked so hard to accomplish. Everything else I have, someone’s given me. But my work is my very own. I didn’t get it from my parents or your family name. And I can’t give up that very precious thing to be folded into some ready-made life that got handed down from Kip. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
“Are you saying your job is more important than me? Than my brother's legacy? Than this whole campaign?”
“No, I mean that my sanity is more important than your father’s dream. I love you, Bobby. You’re a wonderful man, and I thought we’d share an amazing life together, but this? This isn’t it.”
“You’re not thinking clearly, Sugar." Robert Dawson's stern face dissolved away and it was her fiancé Bobby squeezing her fingers. "Let’s go home and talk about this later. This is just your jitters talking.”
“No.” She surprised herself with her own firmness. “Things are perfectly clear. It’s not jitters. I don’t want the life you’re offering me. I don’t think I would ever be happy, and that isn’t fair to either of us.”
“Things will calm down, eventually. You’re just overwhelmed by all this activity. I think you need to prioritize and take some things that aren’t working for you off your plate.”
She shook her head. “That’s what I am doing. You’re just not listening.”
“Ali, don’t. We’re so good together. We’ve had four good years.”
“Yes.” She slipped her engagement ring off her finger and slid it across the table.
“Alaine, for Christ’s sake, we’re in public,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Not here.”
“Bobby. I love you. Please believe that. But I can’t do this. I... I'm calling it off. I need some time.” She stood on shaky legs and walked out of the diner as quickly as she could, blinking back tears until she got in her truck. She closed the door, collapsed against the steering wheel, and sobbed until she thought she’d burst from the pain. Bobby didn’t follow her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
His lips were tender on hers but his body was anything but gentle. A muscular thigh pressed between hers, a powerful hand pinned both of hers behind her back. He brushed his lips across hers, the slightest touch, and she wriggled in his embrace, eagerly seeking his mouth. He grinned and pulled back and she groaned in frustration.
“I want you,” she whimpered.
“I’m all yours, Ali.” His lips against her ear made her shiver, and greedy delight flooded her entire body. She ached between her legs where his strong thigh pressed deliciously against her mound. “You just have to say it. Tell me, Ali,” he crooned into her mouth. He feasted on her slowly, delicately licking and nibbling her lips, twining his tongue with hers. His thigh began a rhythmic motion against her pussy and she was embarrassed by how pleasurable the friction was. Her breath came in desperate little pants as she writhed against him.
“I’ll say it first, then. I love you, Ali. I’ve always loved you.” His eyes were half-lidded with lust and the heat in them was unmistakable. “Tell me,” he commanded.
Her breath caught from the dominance in his voice and the sensation it caused inside her, a swift tightening of her core and flooding between her thighs. He nipped at her throat and she cried out his name, eliciting a stifled groan. His fingers found the front of her shorts and deftly unfastened them, sliding down the front of her panties until they nestled between her hot, slick folds. She was close—so close that every movement of his fingertips against her was exquisite torture.
He rubbed her steadily, whispering against her lips that he would love her forever. When she finally broke beneath his skillful fingers she cried, “I love you, Alejandro!” She sobbed his name over and over again, shuddering in his arms, her cheeks wet with their combined tears.
***
The climax woke her up. It had happened to her before, but not in a very long time, and it surprised her. She squeezed her thighs together, savoring the last of the aftershocks and lay in a half-dream state, aching for his familiar touch, his lips against hers. Her entire body throbbed and she couldn’t stop hearing his voice saying her name.
It’s just your stupid brain and your neglected cunt playing tricks on you, she scolded herself. You need to just go see him, make your peace, and put this behind you. You owe that to yourself.
But as she lay spent in her bed, she couldn’t help the feeling that it was more than peace she wanted. It was more than his explanation, more than his apology, more than closure.
It was Alejandro himself.
They’d shared only one summer, but after he’d broken her heart Ali told herself that she would never love anyone again. For six whole years she did a good job of keeping her affairs brief and strictly physical. The thought of the pain she’d suffered when he abandoned her was more than enough to keep every man she met out of her heart, even if she didn’t keep them all out of her bed. When she met Bobby it was a relief to just stop running. She started their relationship with nothing to lose and gradually felt solid enough to put her faith in a man’s love once again.
Though now she questioned, for the millionth time in the past twenty-four hours, whether she’d done the right thing by breaking it off with Bobby. Her mother’s unsympathetic words echoed in her head. You stupid girl. What were you thinking? He’s the best thing to ever happen to you, and you’re breaking it off because of his political career? Did you expect him to sit home and romance you all day? Grow up, Alaine! Men have careers, and women support them. That’s what we do. You had some time on your own. You spent your entire twenties being selfish. It’s time to start thinking of someone other than yourself. Poor Bobby must be heartbroken.
The look in his eyes when she’d taken off her ring kept coming back to her. It was that look that told her she’d done the right thing. A heartbroken man would have looked desperate, bitter, even angry. Bobby just looked a little sad and completely clu
eless.
She tried to remember the last time Bobby had made passionate love to her and was at a loss to recall a single incident of lovemaking in the past eight months. She realized that other than a few kisses, she couldn’t even remember any displays of affection. And though Bobby had always been a skillful and attentive lover, his touch lacked that elemental fire she craved. She’d only experienced that once. Twice, if you counted the dream.
That’s all it was, though. Just a dream, she chastised herself.
Except…
Except that she had seen, felt, heard, smelled, and tasted Alejandro in her dream. Her response to him was real. Her sensitive nether regions told her that she had definitely experienced a powerful orgasm, even if she had been asleep when it happened. And it was the only orgasm she’d had in God knew how long.
That’s not the only orgasm you’ll ever have, she told herself. Don’t be such a slut. You can give yourself a good orgasm, but you can’t base a life around sex. But you couldn’t base a life around empty social engagements, either, and somehow she’d managed to fall into a life of just that.
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