Tempting Tanya (NSFW Book 3)

by C. C. Wood

  “Poor Lucille,” I murmured.

  Cynthia nodded, sniffling into her tissue. “She must be devastated.”

  My eyes remained strangely dry as Cynthia pulled herself together. I’d known Milton for years and liked and respected him greatly, but I couldn’t cry. I was frozen, my brain still processing the news.

  “I thought you’d want to know,” Cynthia stated, rising from the sofa and smoothing down her skirt. “We’ll have details about the wake and the funeral over the next couple of days.”

  “Okay. When the information comes in, clear my schedule, okay? I want to be sure I’m free.”

  “Of course.”

  Cynthia left my office, shutting the door behind her. I stared at the papers on top of my desk, not seeing a single word, and thought about Milton Buck and the people who loved him who were now left behind.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jordan came by my office to pick me up later that afternoon. He’d been out of the building for court and meetings all day. He called me as soon as he heard the news. I assured him I was fine and that I would see him later that day. He wasn’t convinced, but there was little he could do.

  At five, he appeared in my doorway, his expression solemn. “Are you ready to go home?”

  I was beyond ready and had been since lunchtime. “Yes,” I replied, shutting down my computer and gathering my things.

  The ride to my house was silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Jordan didn’t take my hand. I noticed it, but didn’t reach for him, still frozen inside my own head.

  It wasn’t until I unlocked my door and stepped into the space I loved so much that the gravity of what happened that day washed over me. Waves of sadness swept over me, breaking through the icy barrier that encased me when Cynthia told me the news.

  Tears gathered in my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. Jordan took one look at me and guided me to the couch, pulling me into his embrace. I cried then, the tears that hadn’t fallen earlier that day coming in a surge. I’d known Milton for eight years and now he was gone.

  Jordan pressed his lips to my hair. “I’m going to make you a cup of tea, okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you’re going to take a hot bath and relax while I make dinner.”

  My eyes drifted shut as warmth suffused my body. He was taking care of me again, naturally and without expecting anything in return.

  “Okay,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying.

  Jordan released me and walked into the kitchen. I sat on the couch, my head leaned back as he filled the teakettle and set it on the stove. I listened as he walked down the hall to my bedroom. I couldn’t hear the water running in my bathroom, but I knew he was filling the tub for my bath.

  I wanted to get up, to go help him, but I couldn’t force my limbs to work. I was drained and sad.

  A few minutes later, Jordan returned to my side, a steaming mug in his hand. “Drink this and then we’ll get you into the bath,” he directed.

  This bossy side of him was one I hadn’t seen before. Well, that wasn’t true. I’d seen it before but it had never been directed at me. I didn’t want to like it, but, deep down, I was relieved to let someone else take charge for a while.

  As I sipped the hot herbal tea, he disappeared down the hall again. Before I could finish the cup, he came back and pulled me to my feet.

  “Let’s get you in the tub while the water’s hot.”

  Without argument, I followed him to my bedroom and stood by the bed. He took the cup from me and set it on the nightstand before he tugged my sweater over my head, tossing it on the mattress.

  When his hands reached for the fastener of my skirt, I roused from my trance. “I’ve got it.”

  He stepped back as I undressed, carrying my clothes into the closet. Jordan returned a moment later and guided me into the bathroom. I could smell the lavender bath salts I kept in a glass jar on the edge of the tub and he’d lit several candles I’d placed around the room. The overhead light was off, leaving the space bathed in the soft glow of candlelight.

  I slid into the hot, scented water and let loose a long sigh as the heat seeped into my skin, relaxing my muscles. When Jordan turned on the jets, I sighed again. I hadn’t realized how cold I’d been all day until that moment.

  “I’m going to make dinner. Relax for a while.”

  I leaned my head back against the tub, my eyes closed. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  Jordan was silent for a moment then I felt his lips on my forehead. “Anytime.” I knew from the tone of his voice that he meant it.

  As the hot water pummeled me, I let my mind drift, refusing to focus. I couldn’t allow myself to think too much. There were too many dark thoughts lurking in the background, waiting for me to notice them and give them life.

  “Dinner’s ready.” Jordan’s soft voice pierced the fog that surrounded me.

  I sat up in the water as he turned off the jets. He held out a towel as I stepped out then drained the tub as I dried off and wrapped myself in the thick, soft robe I kept on the back of the bathroom door.

  When I entered the living room, I saw that he’d lit a fire in the fireplace and set two glasses of red wine on the coffee table.

  “Go sit on the couch and I’ll bring you something to eat,” he murmured.

  Dinner was a chunky tomato soup and crusty French bread that had been toasted in the oven with cheese on top. It was delicious, comforting, and melted the last of the ice from my mind. My brain began to move again, if sluggishly.

  When I set aside my bowl and picked up my glass of wine, Jordan looked at me, his eyes intent on my face. “You look better now,” he commented.

  “I feel better.” I stared into the fire. “How did I look before?” I asked absently.

  “Cold, maybe even shattered. You scared me.”

  I nodded, sipping my wine. “I don’t handle death well, I’m afraid,” I stated.

  “Not many people do,” he replied, laying his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers toying with the ends of my hair.

  “That’s true, I suppose,” I agreed. “It’s just that this was so….unexpected and I considered Milton a friend as well as my boss.”

  Nodding, Jordan twisted toward me. “I didn’t know him all that well, but what I did know of him was good.”

  “He was a good man.”

  “Tell me about him,” Jordan invited.

  Even though it hurt, I did. I talked for a long time, telling stories about Milton. Some of them made me laugh. A few made me cry.

  But when I was done, I felt lighter. Better. As if Jordan had taken the heaviest portion of my grief onto his own shoulders.

  The day of the funeral was cool and sunny. A perfect early spring day in north Texas. There were hundreds of people crammed into the church where his service was held.

  The firm was closed for the day so that the employees could attend the funeral. My father wanted to come but was unable to change his schedule. He did manage to attend the wake and give Lucille his condolences.

  As I sat between Jordan and Cynthia, I tried to focus on the words that the reverend spoke, but I struggled. Time and again, my gaze returned to Lucille, who sat still and pale on the front row, her eyes trained on the coffin covered with a cascade of flowers.

  In a slow, steady stream, tears trickled down her cheeks, but she never blinked them away. She kept her eyes trained on the coffin, even as the service came to a close and the pallbearers moved toward it. As they lifted it, her eyes slowly shut, as if she couldn’t bear to watch them carry it from the church.

  People began to file out of the church once the coffin was placed in the hearse, some loitering near the doors and others moving toward their cars. Jordan placed his hand on my lower back and guided me to his car. I knew many people wouldn’t be attending the graveside service, but I wanted to be there.

  The crowd wasn’t as large at the cemetery, which wasn’t surprising. It was mostly family and Milton’s close friends,
as well as several junior and senior partners from the firm. Jordan and I stood toward the back of the group as the reverend delivered another short service.

  Once again, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Lucille, from the pure heartbreak that screamed from every line of her body. She was so silent and still that I feared she would break if she moved.

  It was the moment they began to lower the coffin into the ground that she shattered. I watched it happen, her face crumpling slowly and the long, low wail that emerged from her throat. Her daughter and son moved in, wrapping their arms around her as they all sobbed together.

  Finally, I tore my eyes away from them as they cried, unable to face such grief. Jordan touched my back then, leaning over to whisper in my ear.

  “We should go and let them say goodbye privately.”

  I nodded and let him lead me to the car. After he helped me into the passenger seat, I looked out the window, back toward Milton’s grave and saw that Lucille and her children were still wrapped around each other though their tears had subsided.

  Then I turned to look at Jordan, watching his hands as he steered the car out of the cemetery.

  I realized then that I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t love someone as much as I loved him and say good-bye. Losing my mother had hurt so badly I thought I would never recover. I couldn’t face losing Jordan the same way.

  He could be gone in an instant and I would never get him back.

  I couldn’t go through what Lucille was experiencing. I knew that horrible, all-consuming grief and I would never survive it again.

  Never again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  For days, fear festered within me. I wrestled with it, fought against it, but it was a battle I was losing.

  All I could think about was the fact that even if Jordan didn’t want to leave me, he could still break my heart. The same way my mother broke my father’s heart when she died. The same way she broke mine.

  That kind of pain never left. It might fade or recede, but it always returned. It was inescapable.

  And I couldn’t face it. I didn’t have the strength to survive a loss like that again.

  Every night, I tossed and turned, trying to relax enough to sleep. When I did, the sound of Lucille’s low, keening wail would wake me up, only it wasn’t Lucille crying. It was me.

  I would dream about standing over a grave, watching a shiny coffin sink down into the open earth, knowing that it held Jordan. Then I would wake up, trembling and cold.

  Tonight, when I woke from the dream, Jordan pulled me into his arms. He held me close as I lay silently in his embrace, letting his warmth seep into me.

  “What’s going on, Tanya? What are you dreaming about every night?” he whispered against my hair.

  I sighed against his shoulder, tempted to share though I knew he couldn’t comfort me. He couldn’t promise me that he would never leave me, never die. Instead I took the cowardly way out and lied. “Milton’s funeral…it brought up some bad memories for me. I keep dreaming about my mom’s death.”

  His arms tightened around me. “I’m sorry, love. Tell me about it.”

  I kissed his chest, just over his heart. “I’d rather not. I hate that dream.”

  “Then talk to me about something else,” he invited as he stroked my hair. “Tell me more about your sister.”

  I cuddled closer and did as he asked.

  Still, every night that dream returned, reminding me that I was on borrowed time. I wondered how much longer I would have that before it was taken from me. Months? Years? Decades if I was lucky?

  I knew that Jordan could sense my withdrawal. As each day passed, his jaw seemed harder and his eyes grew more piercing as he watched me. He studied my every move and I knew he was looking for some clue as to why I was pulling away from him. It took every ounce of ability I possessed to keep my fear and sorrow from showing on my face. But I knew that my best poker face wouldn’t keep him at bay for long.

  The knowledge that Jordan was biding his time, waiting until the right moment to broach the subject, worried me. The master of the mindfuck would easily see past my defenses once he figured out what I was thinking. With each passing day, the tension inside me wound tighter and tighter, so taut that I knew it was only a matter of time before it snapped.

  It was Friday night when I lost my composure.

  Jordan and I were in the kitchen, eating dinner at the small table I’d arranged in my breakfast nook.

  “I’d like you to help me decorate my house,” Jordan stated.

  “Pardon?”

  “My house. I’d like for us to start spending more time there, but it’s not very comfortable since I don’t have much furniture. I’d like you to help me furnish it.”

  “Why?”

  His eyes narrowed on me and he set aside his fork. “Because I want you to be comfortable there, especially since we’ll likely be living there someday.”

  I blinked at him. “Living there?”

  “Yes, Tanya. We’re practically living together now and as much as I like your townhome, it’s a bit too small for both of us, much less the children we might have.”

  I stared at him in shock as his words sank in. “Children?” I whispered.

  “What do you think we’re doing here, Tanya?” he asked. “I thought you understood what I wanted.”

  I licked my dry lips. “I do. It just doesn’t seem like the best time,” I evaded.

  He reached out and took my limp hand in his. “I know you’ve been upset about Milton’s death, but I don’t think that’s the only thing bothering you. I want to help you, but I can’t if you shut me out.”

  “I’m not shutting you out,” I denied.

  “You’re having nightmares, Tanya,” he pointed out. “You wake up shaking and crying at night, but you won’t talk to me about it.”

  “It’s nothing,” I argued. “It’s just my way of processing the death of someone I care about.”

  For the first time since I’d met Jordan, he lost his cool. “That’s bullshit!” he barked.

  I flinched at the harsh tone and volume of his voice. I had never heard him yell before. Ever. When he was displeased with someone, his voice tended to grow quieter, colder, until it felt like an icy Arctic wind against your skin. Even that hadn’t been turned my way before.

  Jordan took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “I’m sorry, Tanya. I shouldn’t have yelled like that.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him about the horrible fears that had been consuming me since Milton’s funeral, to tell him that I would never survive losing him like that. To beg him to hold me until the fear was gone.

  Instead, I said, “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “What?” he asked, his eyes growing wide.

  “I can’t be what you want me to be, Jordan.”

  “What are you talking about?” He looked genuinely confused.

  “Marriage. Children. I thought that I could do it. That I wanted those things, but I don’t. I don’t think I ever will.”

  The words were tumbling from my mouth. Not words. Lies. I was lying to him and I was lying to myself. It would be much easier this way. If I ended things now, I wouldn’t have to experience what Lucille endured. What my father suffered when Mom died. What I suffered.

  It was better to hurt now when I could recover. There would be no surviving the pain if I let Jordan become an integral part of my life’s foundation.

  It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.

  I shoved my chair back and got to my feet, moving toward the living room. I had to get some space, to breathe. Jordan followed me.

  “Tanya, wait. Let’s sit down and talk about this,” he stated, reaching for my hand.

  “Don’t touch me!” I cried, pulling out of his reach.

  Jordan froze. I could see it in his eyes. I’d hurt him. Then it faded and I watched as his shield came down. The shield he’d abandoned weeks ago. The shield he wore to protect him from the people
around him.

  That knowledge sent a vicious shaft of agony through my body, so sharp that I glanced down to see if I’d been physically impaled.

  “Please talk to me.” His voice was soft, almost gentle, but the chill was there. The coolness he gave to everyone but me.

  “It’s not going to work, Jordan. I’m sorry. It’s my fault for telling you that I wanted more. I thought I did, but I was wrong. I’m not ready for marriage. And I’m definitely not ready for children.”

  Jordan lifted his hands. “If that’s what’s bothering you, we can talk about it. We don’t have—”

  “I need my space. I just feel like I can’t breathe.”

  “Tanya—”

  I couldn’t let him finish. I couldn’t listen to his calm, reasonable tone, not when I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest.

  “It’s over, Jordan. I’m sorry, sorrier than you know.”

  “Tanya, I won’t let you do this,” he stated, his voice rising.

  “It’s done,” I replied bleakly.

  My feet moved then, taking me toward the front door at a dead run. I snatched up my keys on the way out, my brain whirling with everything I’d just done and the painful lies I’d told the man I loved. I heard Jordan call my name, his feet pounding on the wood floors as he came after me, and I ran faster.

  I didn’t think as I climbed into my car, leaving my house and everything in it behind. I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going, only that I needed to escape. Jordan stood in the doorway, his face obscured by the darkness outside.

  I drove automatically, turning and stopping at lights until I blinked and realized I was parked outside my father’s house. I stared up at the brightly lit windows for a moment, trying to decide what I should do. I’d left my house without my phone or my purse.

  I turned off the car and walked up to the front door. Jordan and I were here last night for dinner, but it seemed as though it had happened weeks ago instead of less than twenty-four hours.

  Before I could put my key in the lock, the door opened.

  “Tanya?” my father asked.