Her Leading Man

by Maggie Dallen

  “Whatever it is you’ve done, I suggest you apologize.”

  He looked up from his computer to see her still standing there, arms crossed in front of her chest. “Excuse me?”

  Natalie shook her head. “You don’t tell me anything but you don’t have to. I heard how happy you were when you were staying with that roommate of yours. You even took time off work for a change.”

  “Yeah, and look what happened,” he muttered. Maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess if he’d been keeping an eye on Darren instead of having fun with Caitlyn.

  He continued to ignore Natalie until she apparently tired of watching him in silence. “Whatever you did, say you’re sorry. Go back to whatever was making you so happy.”

  What was making him so happy? Easy. Caitlyn. But he wouldn’t make her happy. That was the point that everyone seemed to be missing. Natalie, Gregory, and even Caitlyn. Did no one care that she would get hurt if he went back to her? Well, he cared and he would be strong for her sake. For both their sakes. Because if things continued as they had, he knew without a doubt that he would be hurt, too. Because it would end, one way or the other. And when it did, she would be crushed and he would be worse off than he was after the breakup with Olivia. At least when he’d split with Olivia, he hadn’t been plagued with what ifs and if onlys.

  But maybe Natalie was right—not about going back to her, but about apologizing. He owed her that much at the very least. The way they’d left things… His heart still ached to think of the pain in her expression when he’d walked out. Maybe if he apologized, his conscience would give it a rest.

  And he should tell her about the deal with the movie theater owner. She deserved that.

  That adrenaline rush was back at the thought of seeing her. He glanced at the clock. Tonight. He would see her tonight. Grabbing his coat off the back of his chair, he called out a good-bye to Natalie as he headed out to meet her.

  Chapter 15

  He knew where she would be. It was a Tuesday night and Caitlyn was nothing if not a creature of habit. Tuesday nights were her nights to teach beginners knitting at the store. Which meant she would be arriving home at around nine-thirty.

  It felt odd to be perched on the front stoop of her apartment building, the apartment he’d come to think of as home, so close but so locked. Right on schedule, she turned the corner, her head buried in the scarf that covered half her face. She didn’t see him immediately.

  Which gave him a chance to get his fill. His eyes drank in every feature, every stray lock of hair. He took note of the new hat she was wearing—one of her own creation, no doubt. Her mouth and nose were covered by the scarf, but he could see her eyes, which were pinched thanks to the wind buffeting her face.

  God, she was lovely. How had he ever walked away from a woman like her?

  Because it was the best for Caitlyn. And he couldn’t forget that. He was here to apologize for his past actions and explain his involvement with the new development project so she wasn’t sidelined. That was it. End of story. After this he would have no need to see her anymore, no reason to be a part of her life.

  He sucked in air as if he’d been sucker punched. This would most likely be the last time he saw Caitlyn.

  She looked up, and he knew the moment she spotted him because she came to a stop mid-step halfway down the block. He wasn’t close enough to see the expression in her eyes and for that he should probably be grateful. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was some hatred there.

  When she resumed walking toward him at a slightly slower pace, he let out the breath he’d been holding and stood. He could do this. He could face her one more time. She deserved an apology.

  When she was two feet away, she came to a stop again and she crossed her arms in front of her body, whether to shield herself from the cold or from him, he couldn’t tell.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Her sweet voice drifted over him. Would it be too lame to think her words were music to his ears? Probably. “Hi, Cait.”

  “What are you doing here?” she repeated. Her tone wasn’t angry. She sounded exhausted more than anything.

  He cleared his throat and tried again. “How’ve you been?”

  She shrugged. He took a step closer so he could see her beneath the glow of the streetlamps. She was close enough now that if he reached out, he could touch her.

  The moment he caught a glimpse of her eyes, he wished he hadn’t. There was a pain, a sadness, and he knew it was his fault.

  Because she loved him.

  No, she only thought she loved him. She was too naïve to know the difference between intimacy and love. That’s why he had to be strong for both of them. To keep her from making a mistake that neither of them could fix.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked once again.

  Shit. What was he doing here? He shouldn’t be here. It had been hard enough to walk away the first time, and coming back here was playing with fire. She was waiting for a response, shifting from foot to foot, most likely to keep warm in this bitter cold.

  He jerked his head toward the front door. “Can we go in?”

  “No.”

  His head reared back as if he’d been smacked. Yeah, sure, he should have expected that. He wished he could move the scarf so he could read her expression, but maybe it was better that he couldn’t. It would make what he had to say that much easier if he couldn’t read every emotion that crossed her face.

  “I just, uh… I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  She stopped shifting. In fact, she grew so still he thought perhaps time stood still. There was no traffic on her street, no other pedestrians, and the snowfall dampened all sound, leaving them in a bubble.

  “You’re sorry?” Her tone was biting and loud enough to shatter the bizarre illusion that they were living in a snow globe. “For what?” she demanded.

  He opened his mouth to answer but she cut him off. “Are you sorry for being a blind, insensitive jackass or for going behind my back to tear down the theater?”

  Oh Christ, she knew. It was official, he was going to murder Darren the moment their dealings were done. “Look, I wanted to tell you about that, but…”

  Her eyes widened with impatience as she waited for him to continue.

  “Ummm.” Words. He needed words. But all he could do was watch in fascination as Caitlyn’s mitten-covered hands moved her scarf and he finally got a glimpse of her full face.

  And it was beautiful, even in all its righteous anger. Or maybe because of the anger, she had a glow he’d never seen before, a confidence he’d only caught glimpses of in the past.

  “That’s what you have to say for yourself? Ummm?” Her imitation of his dimwitted response was so spot-on he nearly laughed. Nearly. He wasn’t that stupid that he would risk angering her even further at the moment.

  Besides, she wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. “How long did you know?” she demanded. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and didn’t wait for him to answer. “Have you been spying on us while pretending to be our friend? Were you laughing at us this whole time?”

  He heard the real question she was asking. Were you pretending to be my friend? Were you pretending to care? The silent accusation pierced him to his core. She stopped abruptly, and Ben realized with horror that she was choked up. Ben’s mouth opened but no words came out. Dammit, of all the times to lose his ability to speak. “I was going to tell you, Cait. I wanted to tell you.”

  She started shaking her head before he even finished. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t believe you.”

  And why should she? The first time they’d met, he’d lied about his name. From that point on he’d done nothing but take advantage of her sweet nature. Cursing under his breath, he ran a hand over his face. He blamed exhaustion for his inability to articulate. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since he’d moved out. Since that night. Since those words…

  You’re not my type. Business
comes first. I’m not the type to sit around and watch a woman knit.

  Who the hell was that guy? He’d relived the hurt expression on her face every second since walking out of that apartment. He would give anything to make things right. To help her move on, forget about him, and live the life she deserved.

  “I was going to tell you,” he said. “I didn’t know the proposal included the theater. Not at first, not for a while.”

  Caitlyn studied him. “Not until after we became fuck buddies then?”

  Ben flinched at the term. Sure, he used the phrase all the time… But she didn’t. “Friends with benefits,” he automatically corrected. What was happening here? It was like Freaky Friday.

  Caitlyn’s answering smirk spoke volumes. She didn’t consider him a friend. Not anymore. Ben couldn’t help but wonder if she would have felt the same way if the theater wasn’t an issue and she wasn’t doubting his loyalty. What if he’d had a chance to tell her himself? If it was just a matter of the way they’d ended things, would she still be staring at him with that cold, hard glare?

  He shifted, his head tilting as he tried to see past the ice in Caitlyn’s eyes to the sweet, kind woman he’d spent so much time with. “I hate the way we ended things.”

  “The way you ended things,” she corrected.

  Her words were another slap in the face. She was right. He’d ended it. It was his fault. But even as he told himself that, a voice in the back of his head resisted. No. He hadn’t wanted this. He hadn’t wanted anything to change. They’d been good together. What they’d had—a beautiful friendship mixed with mind-blowing chemistry—that was what he’d always wanted. It was perfect.

  “I didn’t want things to change.” Even he could hear how defensive he sounded. But dammit, he hadn’t wanted to change. She was the one who’d ruined what they’d had. “We could have kept going,” he said, taking a step closer. He was so close now he could pull her into his arms.

  Her cynical raised brow added fuel to his fire. “For how long?”

  “What?” Her sweet vanilla scent was distracting him. “What are you talking about?”

  She leaned in a bit so her face was inches from his, which did nothing to help with his focus issue.

  “How long do you think we could have kept going like we were?” she asked. “Another couple of weeks until your new apartment was ready? Or maybe it would have had to end sooner if your attempts at playing matchmaker proved to be a success.”

  He tried to focus, he really did. But she was there. So close. Good God, how had he lived with her and not touched her every second of every day? She was a magnet and his body was incapable of resisting.

  She saw it, the temptation in his eyes. He could tell by the way her eyes darkened and her pupils dilated. She felt it, too. He could have thrown his head back and howled with happiness. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers.

  She gave her head a little shake, and he could practically see her brain scrambling to remember what she was so angry about. “No.” She practically shouted the word, and a pedestrian walking past them on the sidewalk turned to stare.

  She inhaled deeply and paused until the gawker was out of hearing distance. “Don’t try to turn any of this around.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “You kept secrets from me. You are working against something you know I care about.” Her eyes were starting to get suspiciously shiny, and Ben’s throat grew constricted.

  Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. There was no way he could take seeing her cry again.

  She swallowed thickly before adding through clenched teeth, “You are the one who rejected me. You ended us.”

  “Because you deserve better.” Ben closed the distance between them and grabbed her arms, willing her to understand. Their eyes met and he saw the same emotions reflected in hers. Pain, hurt, anger. How could he make her see? It wasn’t her and it was him, but any attempt to explain that was waved away as a cliché.

  He lowered his head so they were inches apart. The proximity was killing him. He was so close to tasting those lips and holding her in his arms, but he couldn’t. He was here for one reason—to make her understand.

  “You deserve better,” he said again. “I’m sorry for the hurtful things I said that night but the truth is still the same. I’m not the guy you want. I’m not the man you need.”

  There was a deathly silence when he stopped talking. Caitlyn’s eyes were so huge he thought he might drown in them. Please tell me you understand. Please say you’ll be okay. He didn’t want to hurt her. That was never what he’d wanted. He’d only ever wanted to help her, make her laugh, build her confidence. He’d only ever wanted to see her strong.

  Whatever she saw in his eyes, her expression shifted. She’d come to some sort of conclusion, and Ben held his breath to see what it was.

  “You’re right,” she breathed.

  The words were a relief and a stab of searing, blinding pain. He was right. She deserved better. She finally realized the truth.

  “You’re right,” she said again. “But not in the way you think.”

  Ben searched her face, looking for her meaning. Where was this going?

  She backed away slightly, just enough so his hands fell to his sides. There was an emptiness where their physical contact had been.

  “You know, when I first met you—not the blind date night but when you first moved in—I thought you were so confident.” She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his.

  A pit formed in his stomach as he realized she wasn’t looking at him, she was seeing through him. He was more exposed than he’d ever been, but he couldn’t move or look away from those big, brown eyes.

  “This whole time, I thought you were so strong and I was the weak one. I saw myself as timid.”

  Ben reached out a hand to her but let it drop. His heart was aching in his chest. “You were never timid.”

  “I know.” Her chin tilted up as she met his gaze, her eyes hard and her mouth set in a firm line. “I know that now. I’m not the weak one. You are.”

  Her words were a blow, a sucker punch to his gut, but he struggled to keep his face neutral. Much as he hated to hear it, he needed to and, more than that, she needed to say it.

  Her cheeks were pink from the cold. Or maybe it was her anger, because her voice took on a hard edge. “All this time you’ve talked about taking what you want and being honest with yourself and others, but you haven’t been. You haven’t been honest with yourself or me.”

  Ben flinched. The combination of her words, her tone, and the cold anger in her eyes were making it impossible for him to block out what she was saying, and their effect was visceral, entering into his bloodstream like a virus and spreading throughout his body.

  “You keep saying that you’re not cut out for commitments and that business is your first priority, but that’s bull. You’re just too scared to commit.”

  He didn’t want to hear anymore. Everything in him itched to walk away. Or pull her into his arms and kiss her until she stopped talking. But she was on a roll and her glare had him rooted in place, unable to escape.

  “You said we want different things, that you’re not the type of guy to sit around and watch me knit.”

  She spit out the words, and Ben flinched again as if she’d smacked him by throwing his words back in his face. He’d been regretting everything he’d done and said that night since it happened, but hearing her say it was heartbreaking.

  “But that’s a load of crap. Every word out of your mouth that night was bullshit. You want a relationship, you’re just too scared to let yourself admit it. And you love sitting around watching me knit.”

  She took a step closer to him and jabbed another finger in his chest. Her jab was nothing compared to the stabbing pain where his heart should be.

  “You love sitting on the couch with me.” Jab. “You love going out with friends with me.” Jab. “You love cuddling with me.” The last was said through grit
ted teeth and with such menace it might have been funny… Except that it wasn’t.

  It was so far from funny. The nerves beneath Ben’s skin were frayed. He was on edge and his hands clenched and unclenched against his sides. He wanted to reach out to her but he didn’t dare. He couldn’t hear any more, not without losing it. And there was more; he could see it in her eyes.

  Her voice grew shaky. “And do you know what I think? I think you love doing all of those things because…because you love me.”

  He could hear her breathing in the heavy silence that followed. Something snapped for Ben. Her words echoed in his skull and vibrated in his body. This was not happening. He was supposed to be here to apologize. To make her feel better.

  And she was slaying him.

  He took a deep breath, and then another, and then opened his mouth to deny it. Instead his body took over and did what it had been begging to do from the moment she’d stepped into view.

  In one quick move he reached out and pulled her toward him so she was pressed against his chest. Where she belonged. He shoved the thought aside as quickly as it popped into his brain.

  Her breathing was ragged, and her gaze fell to his lips. She wanted this too, just as much as he did. That was all he needed. He lowered his head and his lips crushed hers. He was being too forceful, but he couldn’t hold back. He wanted to stop her words, block out their meaning. But even more than that, he wanted her in his arms.

  He let out a groan when her lips met his urgency with a matching passion. His hands cupped her face, moved into her hair so he could hold her closer. Bloody hell, he’d missed her kiss. He’d missed her.

  The spark that was always there between them, a constant flickering force field, burst into flames. All thoughts, all reason, flew out of Ben’s brain as his body took command of the situation.

  She edged in closer so the full length of her was pressed up against him, and Ben’s body ached to get closer. He ran his hands over her hair, her neck, her back, until he was cupping her bottom and pressing her up against him.