Once Is Never Enough

by Mira Lyn Kelly

  Because this sucked.

  “Okay, so I’m going to catch this cab...”

  A red awning halfway down the block caught his eye and he remembered parking in front of it. Great.

  He took her hand.

  “Garrett, wait. What are you doing?”

  Looking back over his shoulder at Nichole, who he was basically towing behind him, he answered, “I’m taking you home. I get why you wanted to have this conversation in a crowded bar, but I think the least you can do is give me the courtesy of a private conversation. Fair?”

  She blanched at the harshness of his tone, but he wanted her to care and he wanted her to know, without question, he did too.

  “Fair.” The single word came grudgingly, but he’d take it.

  “Look, let’s save it until we get back to your place. I don’t want to do this on the street or while I’m driving.”

  At his car, Garrett helped Nichole in and then closed the door behind her. Rubbing the back of his neck, he figured he had ten minutes before he got her back to her place. Ten minutes to figure out how the hell he was going to fix what had inexplicably gone wrong.

  * * *

  Twelve and a half minutes later Nichole was ahead of him at her door and Garrett had a plan. He watched as she slid the key into the lock, turned the knob and swung open the door. Waited until she’d stepped inside and turned to him, probably with some sort of invitation he wasn’t interested in hearing or willing to limit himself to poised on her tongue.

  Moving into her instead of around her, Garrett slid one hand to her waist and the other into her hair, catching her lips open. Her quiet gasp of surprise was arrested and her body without defense—he kissed her. Angling his mouth over hers and sinking into the kind of contact that had never been in question between them.

  Reminding her of just one of the reasons she didn’t want to end what they had. The one that, for her, had brought them together in the first place.

  And she remembered, because her body was suddenly melting against his, her head falling back to grant him more access to her kiss, her hands caught in his shirt and then moving up to his face.

  He wanted to press her hand more firmly to his cheek. Hold her there and just—just be. But he couldn’t stop. Not yet. He needed her breathless. Desperate. Aching for what she could only get from him.

  And then, as he gave it to her, he’d tell her she didn’t need to worry. Maybe a little serious wasn’t so bad. What they had—this kind of connection and fun and feel-good—was something they should hold on to until the very last.

  Until Nichole was at a point where she was ready to move on with the white picket fence life she should have been living for years already. Or until it stopped feeling good and being everything that made him wonder how the hell she could be trying to walk away.

  * * *

  Hot tears pushed at her eyes as her throat tightened around all the things she didn’t want to say. Everything Garrett didn’t want to see...refused to understand.

  “Please,” she begged, her fingers already curled into his hair.

  “I don’t want to stop, Nichole. And I can hear it in your voice, in your breath...you don’t want me to stop either.”

  It was true. She didn’t. She wanted him to take her body. Make it his own. She wanted him to break down her defenses with his hands, his mouth and most of all his heart. She wanted him to want more than an affair.

  Because he’d made her want more.

  Only Garrett wasn’t interested in the kind of more that would put this relationship back into a balance she could live with. Which meant as much as she might want the feel of his mouth on her neck, his hands pulling at her clothes, tightening over her hips...she couldn’t have it.

  So she uncurled her fingers from those silky strands of his hair, worked them between them and pushed.

  “No.”

  It was a word she knew he would respect. Would never press. And, to her relief and heartbreak, in an instant he’d stepped back so the only contact that remained was where his fingers lightly grasped her own.

  “Nichole. Don’t do this.” Dark eyes met with hers, frustrated and intense. “What we have is good. It doesn’t have to end.”

  She shook her head, staring at him as the first tears slipped past her lids. “How can you look at me and even say that?”

  “Because it’s true! Okay—I get it. You feel like things have gone further than we planned and it scares you. So—fine, we slow down a little and—”

  “It didn’t work, Garrett. I tried to slow down but it’s not enough. You’re right about it being good. It’s so good between us that it’s started making me want more than I have.”

  His eyes held hers—but she could see the shift in them. “What kind of more?”

  It was a different kind of tension from simply not wanting to lose her. Telling.

  “More than the promise we won’t have a future. That you’ll never look at me and think, I want her. I want it all.”

  Garrett stared down at her, his expression turning hard. “We talked about this. From the start. You understood.”

  “I know that!” she answered hotly. “Like we talked about you keeping me from getting in too deep. But even with our eyes open—” She shook her head. “It’s time we take a step back.”

  The muscle in his jaw flexed and for a moment she thought he would continue to disagree. Maybe it was that she hoped he would.

  But there was no revelation on the horizon. No argument or silent assault. Just Garrett’s slow nod. “Okay, Nichole. I get it. And...I’m sorry.”

  Yes. Sorry. So was she.

  Dropping a kiss at her cheek, he murmured. “Take care, sweetheart.”

  FIFTEEN

  A week would have been too soon, so Garrett gave it ten days before venturing out with Jesse for a night of laughs at The Second City. Sam had organized the group, and Nichole loved improv, so Garrett figured it was a safe bet she’d be there. He wasn’t disappointed. Walking through the doors, he caught sight of her tumble of red-brown curls across the room and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  The days had been crawling by since he’d walked out of Nichole’s apartment. The nights even more so. And, while he understood the romantic element of their relationship was going to have to be over, he was ready to resume their friendship. Because, damn, he missed her. Missed the talking and laughing and the having someone who got what he was saying. People went from friends to lovers and back all the time. Without the sex clouding it up they would too.

  Waving a greeting across the room, he shrugged out of his coat and started across the floor. Jesse hit him with a nod, and a few others turned around with smiles. But it wasn’t until Maeve mouthed his name that the one he’d been waiting for turned, revealing those big brown eyes of hers filled with anxious trepidation.

  She didn’t need to worry.

  It wasn’t going to be awkward or tense. He wouldn’t let it be.

  When he met the group he exchanged a few back-slaps, knuckle-bumps and shoulder-claps before pulling Nichole in for a one-armed hug that lasted just long enough to emphasize genuine caring without pushing past platonic.

  Because he was totally on board with them being friends. No matter how good that all too brief instant when her body had pressed soft and sweet into his had felt.

  “How’ve you been, Nichole?” he asked, dropping his arm and taking a step back.

  Not weird at all.

  She swallowed, her eyes shifting restlessly around the space before meeting up with his. “Good, thanks. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  Okay. A little weird.

  “Last-minute thing. I’ve been caught up at the office, hammering out a new contract. Good to be busy, but I’m definitely ready for a break. A few l
aughs, you know.”

  “Sure, of course.”

  It wasn’t going the way he’d seen it. Nichole was wound tight and suddenly he felt like a heel having come. With a nod toward the bar he rested a hand at her elbow, leading her a few feet off from the group.

  “It’s okay that I’m here.”

  The words hadn’t even passed his lips before he realized his phrasing alone had made what should have been a question more of a statement. He didn’t want her to say no—apparently enough that he didn’t actually give her the option to.

  Nichole’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no, Garrett. I mean, yes. Of course it’s okay for you to be here. I didn’t mean—” She broke off, glancing briefly away before turning back to him with an apology in her eyes. “You caught me off guard, is all.”

  “I should have called to let you know I was coming.”

  She glanced from Maeve back to him. “We’re adults. It’s not a big deal.”

  This time her smile was more genuine and Garrett felt himself relaxing into the idea of this new phase in their relationship. “Great. How about I go grab us a drink?”

  * * *

  “What do you mean, you aren’t coming?” Maeve demanded through the line, her voice low as though she were trying not to be overheard.

  Which was why Nichole had texted her in the first place with the news that she wasn’t going to make it to Bethany’s barbecue. She’d been hoping to avoid a discussion altogether, but then thirty-seven seconds after hitting “send” her phone had started its little jitterbug, announcing Maeve’s call.

  “My car didn’t start this morning so I have to take it in.”

  “You’re a liar.”

  “No.” Yes. A total liar. But to Maeve, today, she wasn’t about to own up to it. “I’m thinking maybe it’s the alternator, or maybe—”

  “Or maybe you’re bailing because of Garrett. Again.”

  “Nope.”

  “You told me it wasn’t going to be weird, Nichole. That what happened with you guys wasn’t going to get in the way of the rest of our lives.”

  Guilt twisted through her belly. “It’s not. I just....”

  What could she even say? She’d believed it at the time. She simply hadn’t known.

  Nichole stared out the window at the sunshine streaming down for the first time in days. It was perfect weather for a barbecue, and she’d have loved to see everyone there. Everyone except Garrett.

  Only that wasn’t true. She wanted to see him...no matter how it hurt.

  It had been nearly a month since they’d broken up, and she’d seen him five times. That first night had been a shock, to be certain. But after she’d been prepared for the possibility of his showing up. Ready for it. What she hadn’t been prepared for was how difficult being friends was when her heart wanted so much more.

  Garrett only had to enter the room and her body temperature rose, everything within her tuning in to his frequency, subconsciously seeking out any hint that maybe she’d been wrong and he’d changed his mind about the idea of a future.

  But nothing had changed. Because, God, she was never enough. Not for Paul. Not for Joel. Not even for her own father. Why would it be any different with this man who had warned her from the first what his limitations were?

  Garrett was as comfortable as ever. Casually at ease. Attentive—albeit in a platonic sense. He’d make his way over to where she was, check in, exchange a few words before moving on to catch up with everyone else. And if that was where it had ended she might have been fine. But throughout the evening somehow he always gravitated back to her. Leaning in to share some private joke or quiet insight. Sitting closer than her heart could stand because it wasn’t quite close enough. Touching her elbow or the small of her back as he passed, oblivious to the destruction those unconscious intimacies caused her.

  “Look, Maeve, I’m going to have to miss today. I don’t have a car, so please give Bethany and everyone my best.”

  “You sure you want to stick with that story?”

  “Positive.”

  “Fine. Garrett’ll be there in ten minutes to pick you up.”

  * * *

  Garrett turned the key, listening to her car start smoothly for the fifth time in a row. He’d already been under the hood. Had her start it while he listened and looked. And he was getting ready to call his mechanic to come pick the damn thing up and see if he could figure out what was wrong.

  A prime example of why it never paid to lie.

  “It was probably just a fluke. Really, I’m sure the car will be fine.”

  Garrett looked out the open door at her. “You’re sure?”

  Her eyes skating away inevitably shouted all kinds of guilty, but she couldn’t look at him as she flat-out lied for about the sixtieth time that day.

  The door shut behind her and she figured Garrett would suggest they get a move on if they were heading out to Bethany’s. She’d have to ride with him now. Her car was “unreliable.” And he was here.

  They’d be alone together in an intimate, enclosed space for a minimum of twenty minutes.

  Involuntarily her mind wandered to the time they’d spent in cars before. When he’d pulled over with a gruff curse after her flirtations had pushed him to the breaking point. The fogged glass. The occasional law enforcement officer’s intervention.

  With a firm shake of her head she reminded herself it wasn’t going to be that way again.

  “There’s nothing wrong with your car, is there?”

  Time to cut her losses. She shook her head.

  He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, staring up at the cloudless sky. “Any chance this was some elaborate ruse to get me alone?”

  She stared, and after a beat he glanced back at her and then tapped his cheek. “Red.”

  “I wanted to avoid you.”

  “You may need to reconsider your approach. I’ve got this borderline personality disorder when it comes to damsels in distress.”

  Taking her hand, he rubbed her knuckle with the rough pad of his thumb. “How about you tell me what’s going on? I think we’re friends enough we can handle the truth between us.”

  Nichole let her gaze roam his face. Followed the tilt of his smile and the glint in his eyes. All of his features were working in concert to pull her in.

  Even now, everything about him made her want to get closer. Made her want more than she could have.

  “No,” she said, slowly withdrawing her hand from his grasp, refusing to look away as his eyes hardened and the charm went flat. “That’s just it, Garrett. I can’t be your friend. I know you thought if we took a step back, took a few days off, it would be enough. But your friendship, your smile, your do-gooding over-protective drive are all the things that make me want more than I can have. The conversation and the laughter. The two a.m. debates. The way everything you do and everything you say makes me feel so good I can’t defend myself against it.”

  “So you thought you’d skip Bethany’s picnic today, and then what? Only go out when you know I won’t be there? Is that how it’s going to be? We avoid each other completely?”

  The idea of not seeing Garrett anymore hurt her heart, but a part of her wished it could be so simple. Only those complications, the strings, all the obvious reasons they should have avoided this thing from the start were still there. “I don’t think that’s realistic or fair.”

  Garrett rocked back on his heels, his eyes flashing anger and shock as he demanded, “But it’s what you want?”

  Not even close. But what she wanted wasn’t on offer.

  “Garrett, there’s so much overlap in our social circles our paths continuing to cross is inevitable. I wouldn’t ask you to stay away any more than I would want to myself—”

  “So what, then?” He raked a hand through his
hair, the color in his own cheeks high from the rising temper he’d never shown her before. “What do you want?”

  The temper that was spurring her own.

  “I want you to stop being so nice to me,” she shot back, wondering how this man could refuse to see what was so completely and obviously right in front of his face. “Stop trying to whisper me into a friendship that only makes me ache for something more. Stop killing me with all your kindness. Because this show of caring—I can’t take it.”

  Garrett’s eyes were blazing, his voice going low. “I’m not trying to whisper you into anything.”

  She shouldn’t have said it. Knew how it got under his skin.

  But maybe that was why she’d done it. Maybe the only way to get him to stop playing nice was if she stopped first.

  And so, knowing how unfair she was being, she went on, “You haven’t been trying to give me much space either.”

  “How the hell can you say that? The first thing I want to do when I see you is kiss you. Back you around some corner so I can show you how much I’ve missed having my hands on you. But I barely even touch you.”

  She shook her head, firing back, “You don’t get it! The problem isn’t the sex. That part I can handle fine. That part I could handle every night and never get tired of it and not worry about building unrealistic fantasies about any future we could build on how physically compatible we are together. You want to back me against a wall and push my skirt up to my waist? Fine—do it. Just make sure you walk away when you’re done. It would be a thousand times easier for me than you being so damned perfect all the time!”

  Instant heat flooded his gaze, but along with it came frustration. Resentment.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Nichole? You want me to use you and walk away?”

  Her breath was coming fast, her skin hot. “Maybe I do.”

  Garrett’s gaze darkened. “I won’t.”

  “Why? Afraid I won’t like you anymore? That’s the point, Garrett. Even if I can’t stop wanting you, I don’t want to like you anymore.”