His Temptation, Her Secret

by Barbara Dunlop

  “This is perfect,” Sage said.

  The noise of the crowd had faded to a murmur, blocked by the wall of rocks.

  The first starburst cracked the night, eliciting oohs and aahs. It burst white, then blue, then purple in the sky above.

  “Wow,” Sage said, watching the flashes and tracing lines.

  “Have a seat,” TJ offered, gesturing to a rock ledge.

  “You knew about this place?” she asked, gratefully taking the load off her feet.

  Her shoes weren’t particularly fancy, but her feet had been busy all day.

  “I’ve been here a few times before.” He sat down beside her on the cool, smooth rock.

  The next round of fireworks shot up, three circular bursts, expanding with multicolors across the sky. Then shining streamers crisscrossed, white and purple.

  They sat in silence while golden hues morphed into greens and blues.

  She glanced at his profile, seeing the light reflected in his eyes. She could still feel his arms around her, the warmth of him, the strength of him. Out on the dance floor she’d been transported back ten years to another dance, another night in TJ’s arms.

  He seemed to sense her gaze and turned.

  He smiled, and her heart expanded, tightening against the walls of her chest.

  Then his smile faded. His eyes darkened, the reflection of the fireworks growing sharper, more distinct.

  The bangs and pops grew muffled, the crowd’s reaction fading.

  TJ leaned toward her, gradually and in excruciating slow motion.

  She held her breath. She closed her eyes. Her senses attuned to him.

  Then his lips brushed hers and lights brighter than the fireworks flashed behind her eyes. She gasped, and his kiss deepened.

  His hands drew her close. Then his arms went full around her, and he tipped his head, arching her backward with the strength of his kiss.

  She hugged him tight, parting her lips, kissing him long and hard and deep. Gravity seemed to disappear, and she felt as if she was floating on the salt air, suspended in bliss.

  His warm hand touched the small of her back, finding the strip of skin between her top and her slacks. She smoothed her hands up his chest, reveling in his sculpted muscles. She stroked over his shoulders, down to his bare arm, feathering her fingers beneath his T-shirt sleeve.

  He broke the kiss, pulling back and staring, a look of astonishment in his eyes. She expected him to back off, but instead he reached for the hem of her top. He peeled it up slowly. She didn’t stop him. She had no desire to stop him.

  He took it off and dropped it to the side, then he stared for long moments at her purple lacy bra. She reached for his shirt and pulled it off, taking in the breadth of his tanned chest.

  Then she stripped off her bra and fell back into his arms, pressing her breasts against him, remembering their long-ago lovemaking, inhaling his musky scent and bringing her lips back to his for another searing kiss.

  He reached under her thighs, lifting her, placing her straddled across his lap, her slacks taut against her skin, his jeans rough through the thin fabric. His fingers tunneled into her hair, and his kisses deepened.

  Then he cupped her breast. She gasped with the intensity of the sensation, reflexively arching against him. Her thighs tightened around him, and her fingers dug into his bare back.

  This was what had happened. This was why it had happened.

  The fireworks going off behind her had nothing on what was happening between them.

  “TJ,” she whispered. “Please.”

  He groaned in response.

  She reached for the snap of his jeans, releasing it.

  But he covered her hand with his, stopping her.

  She drew back. What was wrong? What could possibly be wrong?

  His eyes were pitch-black. His face was flushed. And his lips were dark red with passion.

  “What?” she asked.

  He cocked his head sideways to the crowd.

  The fireworks banged full volume behind her, and she jumped at the sound. The crowd was behind the boulders, but they weren’t very far away.

  “Oh,” she managed to say, grateful and disappointed at the same time.

  “And I’m sorry,” he said, handing her clothing back to her. “You didn’t sign up for this.”

  She wasn’t a bit sorry. “No, but I—”

  “We need to keep it simple.” He shifted from beneath her, then he pulled his shirt back on.

  She felt suddenly exposed and dressed quickly.

  He came to his feet. “We should go home.”

  She agreed. The fireworks were still continuing, but she really didn’t feel like watching anymore.

  As they walked, she wanted to ask what keeping it simple meant. From where she was standing, sleeping together would be the simplest thing in the world. They were married after all, and the chemistry between them was still explosive after all these years.

  “TJ,” she tried as they came to the car.

  “Let’s leave it,” he said, unlocking the doors. “Recriminations aren’t going to help anything.”

  Recriminations were the last thing on her mind. She was thinking about what Melissa had said.

  “This isn’t anybody’s fault.”

  “It’s my fault.” He got into the driver’s seat.

  The drive home was short. All the way there, Sage tried to come up with the right words, the right phrasing, a way to bring up Melissa’s idea.

  They pulled up to the house, and he shut off the car.

  She took the plunge. “We’re married,” she said, looking straight ahead.

  She heard him turn toward her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

  “We’re both healthy adults. I don’t want to have an affair. But I don’t want to be celibate.” She swallowed. “You were there. You felt it too. I think we should...”

  He was dead still and dead quiet.

  “I think we should sleep together,” she finished in a rush.

  The silence was deafening.

  “What I mean is—”

  “I know what you mean.” His tone was flat.

  She looked at him then.

  It was there—the pain in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the white knuckles where his hands gripped the steering wheel. It was Lauren now, and it would always be Lauren. He might as well be shouting it from the rooftop.

  Sage didn’t know whether to be hurt or humiliated. But she wasn’t sticking around to figure it out. She hopped from the car, went into the house and straight upstairs.

  Ten

  When the front door had closed behind Sage last night, TJ sat still for a very long time, his feelings running rampant—a sexual relationship with Sage, sleeping with Sage, making love with Sage. He could picture it so clearly in his mind, and in that moment, he’d desperately wanted to say yes.

  But that would have been unfair to both of them, to all of them. He knew he’d done the right thing last night, and he still knew that today.

  He’d left early this morning, not even bothering with coffee. He headed straight to his office in the small downtown area of Whiskey Bay. Tide Rush Investments owned the building, but they used only the top two floors. The first floor housed retail space, a jewelry store, a clothing store with local designs and an art gallery. A law firm rented the second floor, while fifteen of TJ’s investment managers and their staff took up the rest.

  He had other branches, New York, London, Sydney and Singapore. And they were looking at Mumbai. Right now, scanning the proposal for that new branch, he thought what the heck? Why not expand yet again? It seemed there were endless opportunities all around the world. There were days when he wondered if he could stop the money train even if he tried.

  Matt appeared at the door of his office, a
cup of take-out coffee in each hand. “You’re here early.”

  “I’m looking at Mumbai.” TJ didn’t feel like explaining his emotional state. Not that he was in an emotional state. He was just confused. No, not confused, disappointed.

  He was disappointed that what he wanted wasn’t the right thing to do.

  Matt crossed the room, holding out one of the cups of coffee.

  TJ gratefully accepted it. He’d come in so early that the coffee shop down the street hadn’t even opened yet.

  Matt sat down in one of two leather guest chairs in front of TJ’s desk. It was a pretentious office. Comfortable, but designed to show high net worth investors that Tide Rush Investments was successful, a place where they could park their money with complete confidence.

  “What’s in Mumbai?” Matt asked.

  “Nothing yet. Probably a branch office.” TJ looked at the numbers one more time. “Yeah, a branch office.” He stroked his signature across the bottom of the page.

  “What was that?” Matt asked.

  TJ looked up. “What do you mean?”

  “How much money did you commit with that stroke of a pen?”

  “Fifty million. That’ll get things started.”

  Matt chuckled and shook his head. “I can’t even wrap my head around amounts like that.”

  “Mostly they’re just numbers on a page.” TJ was feeling particularly disconnected today. “As long as they stay black, it’s all good.”

  “And do they stay black?”

  “They always stay black. I sometimes wonder why more people don’t do this.” TJ peeled the lid from the coffee cup. He hated drinking through those little slits.

  “More people can’t do this,” Matt said. “You’re a savant.”

  It was TJ’s turn to laugh. “I wish it was harder, more complicated. Maybe then I’d feel better about earning so much.”

  “It is harder and more complicated. You just don’t see it.”

  TJ leaned back in his chair and took a satisfying sip.

  “I brought you a check,” Matt said, dropping an envelope onto TJ’s desk.

  “I told you there was no rush.” Tide Rush Investments had fronted the money for Matt’s yacht purchases after a catastrophic fire at his marina.

  “It’s just the first installment.”

  “Thanks.”

  There was a silent pause.

  “You have a good time last night?” Matt asked.

  “Sure,” TJ answered easily, focusing hard on the festival events and not what had happened in his driveway afterward. “You?”

  “It was great. Tasha said it was the highest attendance ever.”

  “Good to hear. The kids had a great time.”

  Matt smiled. “Heidi is adorable.”

  TJ returned the smile. “She is that.”

  It was amazing how quickly he’d grown to love Heidi. Not to mention Eli. TJ’s son was smart and reliable, energetic and growing stronger by the day. TJ’s pride in him grew by leaps and bounds.

  “Did a lot of dancing,” Matt ventured.

  TJ’s radar went up. “Everyone did.”

  “Not everyone danced with Sage.”

  “Not everyone is married to Sage.” As he said the words, TJ’s mind moved involuntarily to her offer.

  She was his wife. And she’d offered a physical relationship. And he’d turned her down. He had done the right thing, hadn’t he?

  “How’s that going?” Matt asked. “The being married thing.”

  TJ stared at his friend. “Are you getting at something?”

  “I’m curious. I know what you did. I get why you did it. And, honestly, I admire you for it. But I saw how you looked at her last night.”

  “I didn’t look at her last night.” As the words came out, TJ realized how ridiculous he sounded. “You know what I mean.”

  “You did.”

  “We were dancing. So yes, I looked at her.”

  “You’re attracted to her.”

  “You’re out of line.”

  “I’m just saying...”

  TJ came to his feet. “What are you just saying?”

  Matt stood too. “I guess I’m saying give it a chance. I saw you smile last night. You looked happy, happier than I’ve seen you...since...”

  “I’m not happy.” TJ wasn’t happy this particular moment.

  Matt was suggesting TJ had moved on from Lauren. That was wrong. Sage might be an incredible woman, and Eli and Heidi might be great kids, and TJ was determined to do right by all three of them. But they weren’t Lauren’s replacement. TJ wasn’t moving on to a fairy-tale ending without her. What kind of a man would do that?

  Matt held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. But if you ever want to talk.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Yeah, right.” Matt’s sarcastic edge obviously came from knowing TJ for years and years.

  “She’s sexy, okay?” TJ blurted out.

  “No kidding.”

  TJ shot him a glare.

  “From an objective point of view,” Matt said. “Hey, I’m married. And Tasha’s sexier than any woman in the world.”

  TJ disagreed with that. “She’s...” He struggled to put his perception into words. “Her smile, and the way she moves. When she laughs, and you should see her playing with the kids.”

  A memory of a game of Frisbee came into his mind, Sage leaping in the air and sprinting across the grass, barefoot, laughing, her toned, tanned legs in the bright sunshine.

  “It would be strange if you weren’t attracted to her,” Matt said.

  “I can’t do anything about it.”

  “I get that.” Matt sat back down. “The two of you have an agreement.”

  They’d had an agreement. And it was a smart agreement, a marriage of convenience, each living their own lives, sharing responsibility for Eli while staying out of each other’s way.

  That was, until last night, until Sage tried to change the terms, until TJ realized how very badly he wanted to change the terms as well.

  “TJ?” Matt prompted.

  “What?”

  “You zoned out.”

  “I’m... It’s... Crap.”

  “What?”

  TJ dropped into his chair. “She offered. Last night, she said we should have sex with each other.”

  Matt’s eyes widened.

  “And not just last night. It wasn’t a heat of the moment kind of thing. She very reasonably and rationally made a case for us sleeping together on an ongoing basis.”

  Matt remained silent.

  Now that TJ was rolling, he found he didn’t want to stop. “She said we both needed a sex life. She said she didn’t want to have an affair. You have to admire that. I admire that. But she said the only solution was for us to sleep together, with each other.”

  TJ closed and straightened the Mumbai agreement, tapping the edge sharply against the desk. “Like some kind of friends with benefits arrangement. But we’re not friends with benefits. We’re married to each other. And for Eli’s sake, we have to stay together. If we let it get complicated, somebody’s going to get hurt.”

  “You turned her down?” When Matt finally spoke, his tone was incredulous.

  TJ didn’t think it was an outrageous decision. He thought it was a prudent decision. It was a responsible decision. “What would you have done?”

  “If my sexy, beautiful wife suggested we sleep together?”

  “You know it’s not that simple.”

  “Simple or not, I would never have insulted her by saying no.”

  TJ opened his mouth to counter the statement, but nothing came to his mind.

  * * *

  August moved along, and Sage began to think about the upcoming school year. Both Eli and Hei
di were now healthy and happy. Heidi still had her sad moments, but the children were making friends and joining in on activities. Eli was playing baseball, while Heidi had decided to join a kids’ art club. She loved painting, and the group spent a lot of time with their easels in the park painting landscapes.

  While working on the seaside festival, Sage had grown curious about TJ’s other charitable causes. He was a stalwart contributor to Highside Hospital, and she wondered if he might also consider supporting St. Bea’s. Gerry Carter, the chief accountant, had given her access to part of Tide Rush Investment’s accounting system, and she discovered TJ’s contributions to philanthropic organizations had fallen off in recent years.

  She also came across hundreds of requests that had been submitted through the company website and in letters. She’d sorted through them all, entering them into a spreadsheet that tracked organizations, dates, amounts and causes. Then she added who and what it would benefit, thinking that would be helpful information.

  Now she heard the front door close, and she glanced guiltily at the time. It was nearly ten in the evening. TJ often worked late, and she tried to keep to the upstairs while he was at home. They were polite to each other, but their relationship had never really recovered from her suggestion that they sleep together.

  It had been an impulsive thing to do, and she regretted it. But she knew she couldn’t go any further with her philanthropic ideas without talking to him. She steeled herself and left the office, finding TJ in the kitchen.

  He looked up from the refrigerator as she entered, his expression telling her he was surprised to see her.

  “Hi, TJ.” She moved closer, keeping the breakfast island between them.

  “You’re up,” he said as he selected a soft drink.

  “I was using the office computer.” She held up a sheaf of papers as evidence.

  “Thirsty?” He kept the fridge door open.

  She shook her head. Then she thought better of her answer. She wanted this to be a friendly conversation. “Sure. Whatever you’re having.”

  He filled two glasses with ice from the dispenser and split the soda between them.

  “I’ve been looking at the philanthropic accounts,” she told him.

  A micro expression flicked across his face. If she had to guess, she’d say she’d annoyed him. But she was going to ignore it.