Life Shocks Romances Contemporary Romance Box Set

by Jade Kerrion

  “I had work to do. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “Well, I applaud your consideration.” Her mouth twisted. “I’m sure you still have work to do—it’s such a convenient excuse—so take your work and get out of my room.”

  “I’m not leaving until we talk—properly—about what the hell is upsetting you.”

  She spun on him. “Do you want me to count the ways? Your affair.”

  “I’m not—”

  She continued as if he had not interrupted. “Your work, and how it trumps your family every single time.”

  He looked as though she had struck him. “I… My work doesn’t trump you or the children. I thought we agreed that this was what we both wanted—a life where we didn’t have to worry about the roof over our head or the food on the table. This is what we’ve both worked for, together. Isn’t it what you want anymore?”

  She blinked at him.

  “Isn’t it?” he demanded. “Plans change; fine, I get that, but I need you to tell me if it’s changed. Don’t let me keep running without telling me I’m running in the wrong direction.”

  “It’s not wrong. It’s just—” She gestured vaguely with her hands. Why couldn’t she find the right words? “—not enough.”

  “What will make it enough?” He stared at her. His intent expression demanded the truth.

  Didn’t he realize she would have been happy to give him the truth if only she knew what it was?

  “You want more time?” he asked. “I’m trying. You want more attention?”

  She snorted, her stomach churning at the thought of how another woman had kissed him. “I don’t need or want your attention.”

  Something dark and dangerous flared in his eyes. “Oh?”

  That one word, that single sound, infused with challenge instead of a question, sent a shiver racing down her spine.

  He continued, his voice low. “You can’t deny that the sex, at least, has always been good between us.”

  “You’d be surprised to find out how little sex means to a woman if everything else is crap.”

  “Really?” He stalked toward her. She retreated until her back hit the edge of her counter. He loomed over her—tall, strong, and powerfully masculine in a way that sent her nerves and her senses into overdrive.

  She tilted her head up to stare at him. “You don’t frighten me.”

  A corner of his mouth tugged into a devilish smile. “I’m not trying to frighten you.” He stroked the side of her cheek with his thumb. That simple touch almost made her quiver in spite of her resolution not to be moved, physically or emotionally, by him. Her lips trembled when he lowered his lips to hers. There was tenderness in their contact. He had always had a gentleness of spirit, an innate kindness that seemed utterly incongruous with the layer of cold logic he slathered over everything he did and said.

  His tenderness made him compelling. The fire he had always been able to ignite in her made him irresistible. Moved by something beyond her control, she parted her lips for his kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her fingers tangled in his hair as a liquid heat began to rise. Por Dios, she would show him she was not frightened. She would prove that she didn’t care.

  Her kiss was demanding, her hands reaching, grasping. She knew how to push him over the edge. She knew how to turn off his kindness and awaken his primal side. She couldn’t abide his gentleness when she knew it could drive her to her knees in defeat.

  This was not the tender and clumsy lovemaking of their youth, or the practiced and easy familiarity of their marriage. This was sex driven by anger, hurt, and frustration—two people striving to outdo the other, to prove that sex didn’t have to be about love, that lust was enough.

  And it was. His kisses were harder. His grip tighter. The pace was heated, almost frantic as they undressed with haste, popping buttons, ripping seams. She didn’t care that he had done nothing to prepare her body for him, because she was ready. Her traitorous body was more than ready for him. She wanted him to take her—hard, fast, and brutal. She wanted to purge the memories of tenderness, of quiet moments spent cuddling in bed before and after making love to him.

  She wanted to burn out the knowledge that she loved him in spite of everything he had done to destroy her and their marriage.

  He drove into her, pounding sensation through her body. The waves of pleasure built, one on top of the other, each one stealing her breath, each one drowning her. Valeria dug her fingers into his shoulders and wrapped her long legs around his waist to give him deeper access to her willing body. She panted, her body heaving against him as she edged closer and closer—

  Her climax crashed over her, emptying her mind. Her shuddering body clenched around him as a low cry tore from her lips. She would have gone limp, but he continued to hold her up, his hands gripping her buttocks as he pounded into her, striving to reach his own climax.

  The expression on his face, however, said otherwise. He looked like a man in pain, as if he were fighting himself, fighting his own release. But why?

  She knew the answer with as much certainty as she knew him.

  Not like this. He hadn’t wanted to take her like this. No doubt he had wanted to seduce her, to make love to her with all the tenderness in him, to show her and remind her what it was like to love him.

  Valeria raised her head and blinked slowly to hold back her tears.

  No. She couldn’t let herself be moved by Gabriel’s manipulation and tricks. She couldn’t let him win. She needed to convince herself that he was no longer the man she thought he was, that he was no longer the man she wanted.

  Deliberately, almost cruelly, she raked her nails along his back. The burst of pain and pleasure punched through him, sending him over the edge. His grip on her buttocks tightened—no doubt she would find bruises tomorrow—as he spilled his release into her.

  He slumped against her, breathing hard. A thin layer of sweat made his skin sheen under the bright spotlights of her dressing room.

  Without pulling out of her, he looked at her. “Why?” His tone was harsh, pained.

  “Why what?” she asked, the lilt of her tone innocent.

  He withdrew from her, but did not step away. “What were you trying to prove?”

  “That it’s just sex to you.”

  “It’s not. Val, you know I love you.”

  “If she—whoever she was—had pushed you far enough, you would have fucked her too, just the same way you fucked me tonight, like a rutting animal.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “Oh?” She kicked her toe at her discarded dress. “You practically tore it off me. You didn’t even bother to take off your shirt. You were just so eager to sink into a willing female.”

  “Val, that’s not—”

  “Fair? I’m not trying to be fair. I’m trying to prove a point. You’re not the man I thought you were.”

  “Damn it, Val. You can’t come on to me, hot and slinky as a siren, and expect me not to loose it. It’s called entrapment.”

  “Don’t throw your fancy lawyer terms at me. I want you to get out of here.”

  He stared at her. A muscle ticked in his cheek, subtly darkened by a five o’clock shadow. “Val—”

  “I said get out. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said. His voice was once again calm, coldly rational.

  “We don’t have anything more to say to each other. Even this…it’s just sex, and it’s not that good.” Her voice held steady despite the lie. “It’s not enough to hold a marriage together.”

  “What we have is love,” Gabriel insisted, his gaze burning into her. “And it’s enough. It’s always enough.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The next morning, after she had sent the children to school, Valeria sat at the kitchen table and stared at the two sets of documents Brandon Smith had drawn up for her—one a separation agreement, the other a divorce settlement.

  Gabriel was right, of cou
rse. If they had love, it should have been enough. If they had love, they could have worked through their differences.

  She knew for a fact though that they didn’t have love.

  It didn’t matter what he professed with his mouth when his actions screamed otherwise. He didn’t give a damn about the things she cared about, like granting Peter’s wish. His work always came first, leaving his family—their children—to survive on scraps of his time and attention. Then, the woman…his affair.

  The something more I want is love.

  She reached for her pen, scrawled her signature on the bottom of the divorce settlement, and waited to feel something, anything, other than the quiet ache of a love long dead. Some part of her wanted to know when it had died, but cold rationality told her it didn’t matter. The marriage hadn’t been worth saving, at least not to Gabriel.

  It was time to acknowledge the facts and walk away.

  Wasn’t it?

  Tears swarmed into her eyes. For a moment, she thought her chest would burst from the swell of emotions, none of which made any sense.

  She left the envelope on the dining table and pushed to her feet. Her mind churned to keep from dwelling on the crushing weight of her emotions. She had to pay a visit to the Browns and apologize for the delayed wish. With luck, Brett’s contacts would connect Peter with judges within the next week or two, but she had lost precious time trusting Gabriel to come through for her.

  Her car keys jingling in her pocket, she headed to the garage. The house would have to be sold, of course. It was a monstrous expense, and she could hardly expect Gabriel to move out and keep paying for it. They would all have to downgrade. She added house hunting to her to-do list; perhaps she could find an apartment near the children’s school—she hoped Gabriel would at least agree to keep the children in their school. It was wretchedly expensive too, and not likely to get any cheaper.

  The drive to the Browns’ apartment provided her with time for a mental tally of the life changes that were likely to result from her divorce. She would need a job, of course. She couldn’t live indefinitely off the alimony. It wouldn’t be fair. She hoped she would still have time to volunteer with the Make A Wish Foundation, although joining their board of directors was out of the question. The directors’ fees were not enough to live on. She simply wouldn’t have the time to indulge herself with doing what she wanted anymore, not if she needed to work.

  She found a parking spot in front of the Browns’ apartment and frowned at the matching dark blue BMW parked in front of her. Was that Gabriel’s car? It was his license plate, wasn’t it? She couldn’t recall exactly. She peered into the car, but unlike hers, that car was spotless and not personalized with the stray jackets, shoes, toys, and books that littered her car.

  It couldn’t possibly be Gabriel’s car. There was no reason for Gabriel to be in the neighborhood. These people hardly represented his usual client list.

  She rapped on the door of the Browns’ apartment. Moments later, she heard the sound of conversation behind the door. The door swung open, and Margie smiled at her. “Oh, it’s you.” The woman dabbed tears from her eyes, but her smile, in contrast, was wide and joyful.

  Valeria’s stunned gaze drifted up to the familiar face of her husband. He looked tense, but acknowledged her with a brisk and impersonal nod. “I was just leaving.” He stepped past Margie and walked toward the stairs.

  Valeria stared at his departing back. Wait. What was he doing here? Was he having an affair with Margie? She looked at the other woman, but Margie appeared completely at ease.

  “Please, please, come in,” Margie said.

  Valeria stepped into the apartment, and Margie ushered her into the living room. Two glasses of water sat on the table. Margie scurried to take one away. “I don’t think your husband touched it, but let me get you a fresh glass anyway.”

  Valeria couldn’t shake the feeling that she had stepped into her equivalent of the Twilight Zone. “Is Peter around?” she asked, groping for a topic to get the conversation going.

  “He’s resting right now.” Margie reappeared with a glass of water that she set on the table in front of Valeria. “Did you come to see him?”

  “I wanted to apologize in person. The wish is taking a little longer than I anticipated, but we’re working on it and we hope to have some good news in a week or two.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Margie relaxed into a smile. “I’ll let him know. It’s going to be an amazing day for him.” She clasped her hands in front of her chest, and her grin widened—so brilliant and infectious that it was impossible to watch without smiling along with her. “What with the insurance issues all sorted out—”

  “The insurance issues?”

  “Yes. They didn’t want to pay, did you know that?”

  Of course she had known that. She had even consulted Gabriel, concerned that the hospitals would stop treating Peter if they realized his parents could not pay his medical bills.

  “Your husband came to visit us after that and said that he would talk to the insurance company pro…something. For free. And he did.” Margie’s grin flashed again, bright and full. “He got them to pay.”

  “He what?”

  Margie squealed, a happy sound. “Isn’t that amazing? He stopped by this morning and brought the confirmation letters from the insurance company.” She gestured at the envelopes on the table. “The insurance will be covering Peter’s care. And your husband also brought us applications for a trust fund or something like that where we can apply for financial help to pay for the deductibles, which we’re still responsible for. But even if we don’t get money for the deductibles, we’ll be okay. We can manage the deductibles. It was just everything else that we couldn’t afford.” Margie threw her arms around Valeria and squeezed hard. “I didn’t dare hug your husband. He’s so cold and distant, but you go home and give him a good hug for me. He saved our marriage.”

  “He did what?” Why in God’s name would Gabriel spend his time handling the Browns’ insurance situation when he didn’t even care enough to talk to his judge friends about granting Peter’s actual wish?

  “Pete Sr. and I…we talked about how to pay for all the bills. We just couldn’t see how we could afford it, so we talked about divorcing. He would take the medical bills on himself. He’d pay them off if he could, or declare bankruptcy, if he couldn’t, but if we were no longer married, I wouldn’t be responsible for the bills. I was planning to go back to work, of course, once Peter…gets better, and this way, my wages wouldn’t be garnished, or my credit record wouldn’t be damaged. At least one of us would get out financially intact so that we could still care for the kids.”

  Valeria shuddered even though the air coming out of the vents was not cold. “But a divorce sounds so…drastic.”

  Margie shrugged. “You do what you have to do to put a roof over the kids’ heads and food on the table. Of course nothing could have kept Pete Sr. and I apart here.” She tapped her chest, just over her heart. “The legal stuff—marriage, divorce—it matters, of course, but only if it doesn’t match the real stuff that holds people together.”

  ~*~

  Owing to his meeting with Margie Brown, Gabriel got a late start at the office that day. He stared at his pile of work, mentally tallied the amount of time he would need, and grimaced. He would be up half the night, especially if he wanted to head home in time for dinner. He had also hoped to invite Valeria to lunch, if she could make it, but that was before he had run into her at the Browns’ apartment. She looked displeased to see him there. He had upset her, somehow, infringing on what she considered her territory, perhaps. How much longer could he continue this ridiculous tiptoeing on eggshells, carefully choosing every word he said, second-guessing his every action around her? The mental effort was tremendous—an effort he couldn’t afford on top of his job.

  No, damn it. He gritted his teeth. He would and could endure the effort if it was what was required to hold on to Valeria and his marriage. He just had
to make it better. More time. More attention. Whatever it took.

  Even if he had to stay up the entire night to work.

  A knock sounded on his door.

  He glanced up. “Mr. Felder.”

  Joe Felder stepped into Gabriel’s office, his hand extended. “I hope you can bring yourself to call me Joe now,” he said as the two men shook hands. “It’s official. You’re a partner.”

  A jolt of relief shot through Gabriel. “Thank you. I’m honored.”

  “No, no. We’re glad you’ve chosen to grow your career and reputation here. You’ve done a great deal for the firm. So, can we expect to see you and your beautiful wife at our partners’ retreat in Napa Valley next weekend?”

  Gabriel glanced down at the photograph of Valeria on his desk. “I have prior family commitments for that weekend. I’m sorry, but they were made before I found out about the retreat.”

  “Not a problem. I understand. There will be other retreats, with a lot more advance notice, I promise.” Felder relaxed into a grin. “Congratulations again. Glad to have you on board.”

  Gabriel waited until Felder departed his office before he released his breath. His shoulders sagged beneath the relief of both his promotion, and more importantly, the fact that Felder had accepted his absence from the partners’ retreat with matter-of-fact aplomb. Could it be that all the pressure to keep up his professional appearances was entirely self-inflicted?

  Perhaps not entirely self-inflicted, he noted, but no question, a lot of it was probably unnecessary.

  In fact, if he left now, he could probably take Valeria out to lunch and break the news of his promotion in person, and tell her that he was not going to the partners’ retreat. It would help clear the air between them, perhaps even break the tension. God knew he needed a lucky break in his marriage.

  ~*~

  He pulled into the garage. Valeria’s BMW was parked there, the engine still warm. He walked into the house, entering through the kitchen door. She was in the kitchen, standing by the stove where she was making a cup of tea for herself. She glanced over her shoulder, her mouth open in surprise. “What are you doing back here?”