by Noelle Adams
“Maybe. Maybe a great guy who wants nothing but sex will just fall into my lap.” She gave a little cough as she heard what she said, her cheeks warming slightly. “Uh, so to speak.”
Ward’s eyes were laughing, although his expression was intentionally sober. “So to speak.”
“But it’s not that big a deal. I can deal with not having sex. I can take care of myself.” Her blush deepened. “So to speak.”
“So to speak.” His voice wobbled slightly.
She gave him a playful push. “Stop laughing at me. You’re the one who asked.”
“I know I am. Whether you believe me or not, I care a lot about you, Em. I don’t like to see you unhappy.” He raised his hand brushed his knuckles against one of her hot cheeks.
Her heart fluttered wildly. “I’m not unhappy.”
“I know things are complicated because of your dad, but if there are things you want in your life, you should let yourself go out and get them and then find a way to make them work.”
“I do. I am.”
His eyes held hers. “I don’t really know if you do.”
She was feeling way too vulnerable, and it made her defensive instinct rise up. “Well, you don’t know everything. And besides, who are you to talk?”
“To talk about what?”
“To talk about going out and getting what you want. You haven’t even dated in ages.”
“I don’t want to date.”
“Don’t you? You were married before. At one point you wanted to get married. But it didn’t work out that time, and you decided to never do it again.”
His expression tightened. “Em—”
“I know you’re going to deny it, but I know you as well as you know me. You don’t want to get hurt again. You don’t want to give another woman the chance to rip your heart out. Who can blame you? But you don’t get to lecture me about not trying to get everything I want if you’re not willing to do it yourself.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s not what’s happening here. I’m perfectly happy.”
“If you say so. But if you can expect me to believe that, then you have to believe that I’m perfectly happy too. Maybe we both know it’s not always all the way true. But is anyone ever perfectly happy?”
Ward reached out and gave her a quick, hard hug. It surprised her so much she hugged him back without thinking through what it might to do her heart.
When Ward pulled back, he opened his mouth like he was going to say something. But he stopped himself. Gave his head a quick shake. And then strode out of the room without another word, leaving Em’s emotions in more of an uproar than they’d been before.
Four
A WEEK LATER, EM WASN’T feeling any more settled.
She would have been. She was sure of it. If she’d been allowed to interact with Ward in normal ways, she was sure she could have adjusted to the temporary weirdness she’d sensed between them. The attraction for him that had hit her out of the blue and the emotional vulnerability.
But he was avoiding her. Successfully. She hardly saw him at all that week.
As absurd as it was, given how conflicted their relationship had been lately, she missed him.
She missed him a lot.
She knew he was avoiding her on purpose, so that made everything worse. But she wasn’t going to force interaction if that wasn’t what he wanted, so she made no effort to see him.
It was a long, empty week.
She distracted herself by spending a lot of time with Riot and trying to encourage her with her finances and her painting. On Saturday morning, a week after the brunch where Em had wanted to kiss Ward, she had dinner at Stella’s with Riot and Frank and tried to be happy about it.
Frank had come to pick her and Riot up from Pemberley House, so he drove them back after dinner. Em had expected him to just drop them off, but he parked the car and waited with Em until Riot drove off.
Then, instead of leaving, Frank walked her into the building and up to her place.
Em was starting to get a little annoyed with him. He was clingier than she expected, and she was a little bored with hanging around him so much. It would be worth it if he’d take Riot’s paintings in his gallery, but nothing definitive had been decided on that yet.
He was nice enough, but the truth was he was a little too slick for Em’s tastes. She liked her friends to be more open and real. Frank’s personality was irretrievably blended with his surface, so much of what he said and did felt a little fake.
She didn’t like to be judgmental, but she suspected he’d never be a real friend to her.
She held on to her smile as she stood at her front door and chatted with him, trying to wrap up their idle conversation. It would be easier to talk to him when Riot was around. At least then she felt like there was a real purpose.
This... this was just boring and a little annoying.
“Okay,” she said at last, when Frank made no move of leaving. “I should get in, and my dad will already be in bed, so we don’t want to disturb him.”
“Okay. Good night then. When can I see you again?”
Em blinked. “Oh. I don’t know.”
“Soon I hope.”
“Sure. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” Oh God, this was becoming painful. Why wouldn’t the man just leave?
Frank leaned forward then, and she was caught by surprise so she didn’t respond fast enough. She just stood there stupidly while he kissed her.
He kissed her.
It felt weird and awkward and uncomfortable and intrusive. Em didn’t want to smell his breath, to feel his mouth on hers, to have his body so close.
She didn’t want him that way at all.
She stood there frozen until her mind finally clicked and she was able to gently push him away. “Frank, no.”
He was flushed and scowling when he straightened up and stepped back. “What’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter? I don’t want to kiss you. I don’t think about you like that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What do you think I’m talking about? I don’t want you like that.”
He was clearly surprised and angry—and probably kind of embarrassed beneath it. His scowl deepened. “You sure were acting like you did. Why did you lead me on this way if you weren’t interested?”
She almost choked on her indignation. “I did not lead you on! I was just being friendly. I thought we were hanging out casually. You were interested in Riot’s paintings and—”
“I was not interested in her paintings. They’re nothing special. Kind of childish.”
“Then why did you act like—”
“The only reason I gave her the time of day was because of you. Do you really think I’m so devoid of taste that I’d hang those mediocre paintings in my gallery? I thought you were looking for an excuse to talk to me.”
“I wasn’t!” Her cheeks burned, and she couldn’t take a full breath. She couldn’t remember ever being so humiliated in her life. How wrong could she have possibly been? “It was all about Riot’s paintings. I mean, I like you fine, but I’m not... not interested.”
“So you were just leading me on? Using me—”
“No! I didn’t think I was leading you on at all. I had no idea you were thinking we would... would...” She covered her face with her hands, wanting to hide completely. “Oh God. I’m so sorry, Frank. It was all a misunderstanding. But I’ve told you many times that I’m not thinking about getting married.”
“Who the hell cares about getting married? If you just want sex—”
“I don’t want sex with you.” She couldn’t believe she was having to say that out loud. “I’m sorry. I don’t. I hope you understand.”
“I don’t understand.” He sounded like a sulky child. “It’s a shitty way to treat someone.”
She smothered a groan. It was easier to feel bad about her behavior if he’d responded with more maturity and grace. “I’m sorry, Frank. I really am. I t
hought you were really interested in Riot’s paintings. For real. And so I thought it would help to hang out with her and— I was wrong. I was totally wrong, and I’m sorry about it. I don’t know what else to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I see who you are. I get it.” With that, he walked away.
She stared after him, trying to process the reality of what had just happened. What it all meant.
He genuinely thought she was leading him on to get him to take Riot’s paintings, when the thought had never once occurred to her.
She must really be that stupid.
She must really be wrong about everything.
She didn’t actually have much experience with men, except a boyfriend in high school and a couple of short-lived things in college, back when she’d thought a real relationship was a possibility for her.
It was entirely likely that another woman would have immediately understood what Frank was after. She would have known how to keep the situation from progressing the way it had.
It made Em feel stupid and naïve and childish, and she hated, hated, hated feeling that way.
And, what was even worse, now her plans for Riot were nothing but thin air. The poor girl was going to be so crushed. All their energies had been focused around getting Riot’s paintings in the gallery, and now she would feel discouraged and rejected.
She might fall back into her old bad habits of overspending and aimless self-centeredness.
On the verge of tears, Em turned toward her front door. Her father would be sleeping. The condo would be empty. Silent.
Lonely.
She’d be all alone with her stupidity.
She didn’t want that, so she turned on her heel, facing the stairs. Before she took a step, she turned back toward her front door, changing her mind. She stood for several seconds, trying to decide what to do.
Then she did.
She turned back toward the stairs and hurried downstairs.
She didn’t want to be alone right now. She wanted comfort. Someone to understand her. Someone to care about her.
He might not want to see her. He’d been avoiding her all week. He might push her away the way he had last week. He might reject her.
But she didn’t think he would—not when she really needed him.
She wanted him in any way she could have him right now.
So she made her way through the cool autumn night toward the person she needed as fast as she could.
WARD HAD JUST TAKEN his third shower of the day.
It was ridiculous. Embarrassing. That after a week of rigidly avoiding Em, his body was still so out of control.
He’d turned the spray on cold, hoping it would cool him down. But he’d given up after a moment and turned the knob up toward warm. He’d stood under the spray and thought about Em, and eventually he couldn’t help himself. He was too turned on. He’d had to bring himself to a fast, hard climax, trying desperately not to picture Em’s face as he came.
He didn’t entirely succeed.
He felt only a little better when he got out and dried off, pulling on a pair of the flannel pants he always slept in.
He wasn’t a teenager anymore. He was thirty-nine years old. He was way too old for this behavior.
It was humiliating.
He was trying to decide between going to bed or getting a beer and watching TV when he heard a knock on his door.
It was after ten at night. No one should be at his door.
The only person he could think of was Em. Maybe it was her. Maybe something was wrong.
Maybe she missed him and wanted to see him again.
He strode to the door and flung it open.
It was Em. She looked soft and touchable in a plum-colored sweater and fitted black trousers that emphasized the shape of her hips. Her eyes were huge, and she wasn’t smiling.
“What’s the matter?”
“N-nothing.”
He frowned. “Is your dad okay?”
“He’s fine.” She took a deep breath, like she was steeling herself for something.
Ward waited, his heart beating fast and hard. When she didn’t say anything, he said gruffly, “Don’t just stand there. Tell me. Tell me right now.”
He didn’t mean to sound rude, but he must have. Her head jerked back like he’d slapped her. “Forget it,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. She turned around to leave.
He grabbed her arm to keep her from walking away. “Em, wait. Don’t go. I’m sorry I sounded mean. I’m just worried because I can tell something’s wrong. Please tell me what it is.”
She stood for a moment, her face turned away from him, her arm extended in his grip. Then her shoulders started to shake. She ducked her head and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Em, please,” he said hoarsely, pulling her into the cottage and closing the door to shut out the cold air. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“You’re... you’re right. About everything. I am an idiot.” She was sobbing now in tight, contained shakes. “And I’m wrong about everything.”
“You are not an idiot. And you’re not wrong about everything. And I never said you were.” He was all riled up now in a weird protective stance, as if preparing to fend off anyone who might hurt Em.
His words made her cry even more, and he couldn’t stand it.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she sobbed into his shoulder. She obviously wasn’t in any condition to speak yet, so he let her cry. Something tight in his chest relaxed at the feel of her against him, at the way he was able to hold her, take care of her.
It was what he always wanted to do.
After a few minutes when her sobs quieted into a few soft gasps and hiccups, he murmured, “Why don’t we sit down, and you can tell me what’s going on?”
She sniffed and nodded and went over to sit on one side of his couch. He sat beside her, turning slightly so he could see her.
She was wiping away tears and clearly working on controlling herself. He waited as patiently as he could until she finally said, “You were right.”
“About what?”
“About Frank. And Riot’s paintings.”
This was what he’d half expected since it was where most of her hopes and energy had been focused lately. He felt a flash of anger at what he suspected had happened, but he kept his voice soft as he asked, “He wasn’t really interested in her paintings?”
“No. He pretended to be. But apparently he thought they were mediocre, just like you do. You were right about them. I was making things up because I wanted her to be so good.”
“It’s perfectly natural to not be completely objective about the work of someone you care about.” He was surprised he managed to sound so calm since he didn’t feel calm at all.
She shook her head. “Maybe. But I was still stupid. I should have seen what was happening.”
“Frank was... after something else?”
“Yes.” She stared down at her hands in her lap. “Me.”
“He made a move on you?”
“Yes.”
“And you aren’t... interested?”
“No!” Her eyes flew back up to his face. “Of course I’m not interested in him. You know I don’t want to get married. And he’s too... too...”
“Smarmy.” Had he been thinking clearly, he would have held himself back from saying it out loud. But his mind wasn’t working at full capacity at the moment. It was filled with too much emotion.
“Yes,” she agreed with a soft huff. “Smarmy. I mean, he’s not a bad guy, but I could never... Anyway, I had no idea he was thinking that way about me. And then he kissed me.” She shuddered. “It was terrible.”
“He didn’t keep pressuring you or something, did he?” He heard the edge in his own voice.
Em evidently heard it too. Her expression changed. “No, of course not. He stopped as soon as I pushed him away. But he was so nasty afterward, telling me I led him on purposefully. I really had no idea he wa
s interested in me at all.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“You knew?”
“Yeah. I could see it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You really would have believed me if I had?”
She hesitated before she admitted, “No. Probably not. It’s all my fault. Not yours. It’s all my stupidity. Now I have to try to tell Riot that Frank doesn’t want her paintings after all. And I have to take back everything I said about her having a future in art. And I feel like such a fool. Such a blind, stupid fool.”
“Don’t talk about yourself that way. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“I should have listened to you from the very beginning, and I could have avoided this whole terrible mess.”
He gave a half shrug. “You thought I was just being bossy and self-righteous.”
“Yeah. But I should have known better. I’m terrible with men. I never know what they’re thinking. I just assume they’d think and act like I do, and they never do.” She let out a long breath and kind of collapsed toward him, leaning against his chest. He had no choice but to wrap his arms around her, and despite his attempts to remind himself to avoid dangerous thinking, he couldn’t help but enjoy holding her this way.
She was more relaxed now. Not crying anymore. Just tired and oddly needy.
Like she needed him.
Like he was the person she wanted to turn to for comfort.
They sat cuddled together that way for a long time, and Ward attempted to keep control of his body. His hand was moving of its own accord, stroking her back, her soft, loose hair. But that wasn’t too inappropriate. It could still be considered a familial sort of touch.
But other things were happening to his body. His skin was heating up. His blood was coursing. And too much of it was centering in his groin. The more he smelled the fresh herbal scent of her, the more he felt her warm, soft body against his, the more he heard her breathing and felt one of her hands clinging to his side... the more excited his body became.
He was going to have to ease her away soon.
Very soon.
It wouldn’t be long before she would notice the evidence of his physical response to her.