by Gemma James
The silence hanging over the table in their wake is crushing.
“Thank God for Cash and Monica,” my father says. “Those two are going to do amazing things at MontBlake.”
The slam of a car door echoes through the night. A few seconds later, an engine roars to life. Unable to take it any longer, I push back my chair and stand. “Since you think everything is so perfect, maybe you should know that Monica is cheating on me.”
My mother gasps, and Jed Blake’s face flushes with outrage. But the shocking revelation doesn’t seem to faze my father.
“Well man-up and put a stop to it.”
I take in each person at the table. Ned with his immovable disposition, and Roni with her icy blue-eyed indifference. My dad and his superiority and pig-headed know-it-all nature. My mom is the only one I feel bad for, because she’s too kind-spirited to handle the bullshit Ned and my father put her through.
The shit they’ve put us all through for years.
“I don’t even know why I try anymore,” I say. “Our marriage is crumbling. Monica sure as hell isn’t happy. I’m not either. In fact, I don’t see a single person at this table who looks happy right now.”
As my mother covers her mouth with a trembling hand, my father rises. “If something’s broken, you fix it,” he says, his voice reverberating like a clap of thunder. Slamming his palms onto the table, he stares me down. “Do you hear me? Fix it, Cash.”
“Got it, Dad. Loud and clear.”
“MontBlake can’t afford bad publicity, especially so soon after the merger. So make it right.”
My gut is roiling with fury, but I hold it in. Blowing a gasket in front of my father will accomplish nothing. He’s set in his ways more than ever and refuses to address the real problem.
The only thing that needs fixing is the pathetic state of our family.
17. Hello, Jealousy
Jules
Kaden is quiet on the drive to my apartment. Even if he did feel up to talking, I wouldn’t know what to say. What went down at his family’s place is something I wish I could forget. He takes my hand in his as we climb the stairs to my front door. I’m tempted to pull away, but I don’t. Maybe he needs the comfort of touch right now, just like I needed his brother’s on that airplane.
Thinking about Cash and our time up in the air is bittersweet. For those few hours, we existed in a bubble of our own making. I’d give anything to go back to that time. Memories of every touch, of every glance burn behind my eyes. Horrified at the thought of spilling tears, I blink until I’m sure my eyes won’t betray me.
“I’m so sorry about tonight,” Kaden says as we stop in front of my door.
I untangle our fingers and glance up at him. “It’s okay.”
He’s leaning toward me, one hand braced on the door next to my head, and I don’t like this caged-in feeling.
“It’s not okay. That was a disaster for a first date.”
“It was our only date,” I say, placing a hand on his chest. Inch by inch, he backs off.
“You’re not going to invite me in, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”
With a sigh, he puts even more space between us. “I don’t blame you. Not after tonight.”
“It’s not because of what happened. Truth is, I shouldn’t have agreed to go out with you.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m sorry, Kaden. That didn’t come out right. I think we could be friends.”
“I’m not used to being friend-zoned.” He lightens the mood with his easy-going smile. “It’s a humbling experience.”
“I didn’t mean to lead you on. I just came out of a relationship, and I’m not ready to start something new.”
Unless it’s with a man I can’t have. And that is the pathetic state of my love life.
“No, I get it. No need to explain.” Leaning forward, he presses his lips to my cheek. “Have a good night, Jules.”
He walks away, and I escape into my apartment with my heart thumping painfully in my chest. Standing with my back against the door, I let the tears spill down my cheeks, purging everything that’s built up over the last few weeks. Kaden’s goodbye was too similar to the way Cash and I parted ways at the airport.
The night I knew him only as my Sexy Stranger.
I miss the safety of not knowing who he is. My heart didn’t hurt so much, and I didn’t despise myself as much as I do now. Because loving Cash when he’s not free to return that love is hell.
The flow of despair eventually slows to a trickle, and I force myself away from the door. I can’t think past crawling into bed and sleeping, and hopefully waking without this crushing weight on my soul. But that seems impossible right now, so I take a quick shower, washing away the last of my tears, and only then do I climb between the sheets.
Not five minutes later, a ding sounds on my cell. I know before I pick it up that it’s a text from Cash.
Cash: Tell me you’re not dating my brother.
Those seven words are laced with bitter agony—I know it’s true because I’m still haunted by the accusing glint I saw in his eyes tonight. Not only accusing, but possessive and jealous and betrayed. That last one bothers me the most, because you can’t betray someone who isn’t yours.
And that makes me madder than fuck.
Me: What if I am? Would it really matter?
Cash: That’s a stupid question, Jules.
Me: Why is it stupid? It’s a simple question.
Cash: There’s not a damn thing in the world simple about it.
Me: That’s where you’re wrong. You being married makes it simple. Who I date shouldn’t matter to you.
Cash: But it does.
Me: Why?
Cash: You know why. Do you really need me to spell it out?
Me: I think it’s past time for spelling shit out. Maybe we both need a harsh dose of reality.
Cash: The reality is I want to kill any man who fucking touches you, especially if that man is my brother.
Me: How do you think I feel? Last time I checked, you’re still wearing your wedding band.
Cash: I might have a ring on my finger, but I’m the one alone. Are you with him now? Are you going to fuck him?
My heart is thrashing too hard. Too fast. I don’t know whether to be furious or ecstatic that he’s this upset over the idea of me with someone else.
Me: No, he dropped me off. And to set things straight, I’m not fucking your brother. How could I do that when all I’d see is you?
Cash: Fuck, Jules. Why are you doing this to me?
Me: I’m not doing anything to you. There’s nothing going on with Kaden. I agreed to one date as friends, and that was all.
Cash: Please don’t lie to me. The thing I love most about you is your honesty.
Me: I wouldn’t lie to you.
I’m hurt that he would even think that, but on another level, I understand, considering what his wife did to him, and what I did to Chris.
Cash: I’m sorry for acting like a Neanderthal tonight. I know I have no right to feel possessive, but I can’t help it, Jules. You drive me crazy.
Me: Then I guess we’re both crazy. I didn’t feel right going out with your brother, but he cornered me when I asked him a favor for a friend. Going to your family’s house for dinner was the last thing I expected.
Cash: I’m sorry you had to witness that circus.
Me: You should meet my family. They’d fit right in. It would be one huge circus act.
Cash: You have a way of making me laugh, no matter what we’re talking about. You turn everything on its head. I don’t know which way is up or down anymore.
Closing my eyes, I let my head rest against the headboard for a few moments. I’m so tired. Tired of trying to do the right thing, of trying to convince myself I can’t have him. My heart simply doesn’t believe it—not when every molecule in my body belongs to him.
Me: I don’t either.
Cash: Are you in bed?
Me: Yes.
<
br /> Cash: There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.
Me: You can ask me anything.
Cash: Do you sleep naked?
My skin flushes hot, and I sink deeper into the soft sheets.
Me: Yes.
Cash: Are you naked now?
His question courses through my veins, turning me into a trembling mess. I press my thighs together, but it does nothing to stop the ache. In fact, part of me is convinced I’ll throb between my legs for the rest of my life for him. I swallow hard, fingers hovering over the on-screen keyboard as I try to decide whether to engage or walk away. He sends another text before I can decide either way.
Cash: Never mind. Imagining you naked is bad enough. Better to not even go there.
God, how I want to go there. As I tap out a response, I convince my broken conscious that we aren’t doing anything wrong. It’s only words.
Me: What would you say if I were?
Cash: I’d say the thought of you naked is turning me on like crazy.
A few heart-pounding seconds pass, then he fires off another forbidden message.
Cash: Then I’d tell you to spread your legs.
My legs part, and I can almost feel the phantom touch of his hands on my thighs, fingers gently prying me open. A breath shudders from my lips as I tap out a reply.
Me: Then what?
Cash: I’d tell you to touch yourself.
My free hand twitches to do his bidding. To find release while the memory of his voice dances through my head. I can hear his words so clearly, almost as if he’s whispering them into my ear.
Me: Then do it. Tell me to touch myself.
A full minute passes, and the utter silence is maddening. He probably came to his senses and put his phone away. Or his wife interrupted him. I’m green with jealousy as I imagine him touching her.
Now who feels betrayed?
Neither of us have any right to feel this way. Pining for someone you can’t have is one thing—but this level of possessiveness is insane. He doesn’t belong to me any more than I belong to him.
If only my stubborn heart would get onboard with that truth.
My cell rings, and I almost jump out of my skin. My hand shakes as I play with the idea of answering.
Don’t do it, Jules.
I tell that annoying voice to go to hell before swiping my thumb to the right. He doesn’t speak at first—only the sounds of our breathing ping back and forth.
“Jules…” He trails off on my name.
“I’m here,” I choke out.
“Touch yourself.”
The ragged quality of his voice travels through me, leaving shivers in its wake. I slide my fingers between my trembling thighs, embarrassed by the moan that vibrates off my lips.
He sucks in a quick breath. “Fuck, you’re driving me wild.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” I bite back another moan as I increase the pressure on my clit.
“I know, Jules. God, do I know it.”
“Then tell me to stop.” The words tumble out too quickly, my choppy breathing making it difficult to speak.
“I can’t,” he says, tortured. “But I’m going to hang up now. Ask me why.”
“Why?”
“Because if I ever get the chance to hear you come, it’s not going to be over the phone.”
He ends the call. And as I’m coming, his name a sigh on my lips, another text comes through.
Cash: You were more gorgeous than the sunset tonight. Sweet dreams, beautiful.
18. Market Confessions
Cash
She’s looking at an arrangement of sunflower bouquets several feet ahead. And what am I doing?
I’m watching her like a stalker.
She hasn’t spotted me yet, and I’m not sure if I should grab her attention, or duck out of the market before she sees me. It would be easy enough to disappear into the crowd.
“Those colors suit you,” I say, my treacherous mouth making the decision for me.
Jules tilts her head my way, and our eyes connect. She’s fingering the wrapping on one of the bouquets. “I love purple, and sunflowers are one of my favorites.”
“Really?” I raise my brows. “Not roses?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Too common. Sunflowers are underrated.”
So is the simplicity of touch. The breathlessness of desire. I’ve gone without both for too long, and it’s messing with my head.
Fucking with my heart.
Meandering down the flower display, she fingers the wrapping on several of the bouquets, as if putting out feelers for the one that belongs to her. I keep pace behind her, and every few steps, she flicks her gaze at me from over her shoulder.
When she looks at me like that—like I’m a sunflower in a world of black roses—my grip on control slips a little more, and I’m close to drowning in everything Jules. I span the distance between us until I’m standing right behind her. We’re unmoving—like stones in a flowing river of bodies. And we aren’t even touching, but the chemistry between us is tangible. I wonder if her breaths are as shallow as mine.
“What else is your favorite?”
Her fingers slip from a bouquet. “Huh?”
“Flowers,” I say, feeling as dazed as she sounds. “You said sunflowers are one of your favorites. What’s another?”
“Um…” Her body sways toward me, but rather than give her more room, I rock on the balls of my feet until we’re an inch closer. “Tulips. They remind me of my grandma.”
“Are they her favorite?”
“They were. She had every color you can imagine.” She pauses, lost in her memories. “When I was a kid, I used to balance on the bricks around the flower beds. It was like walking on the edge of a rainbow.”
The wistfulness in her voice tugs at me. “I bet you miss her.”
“All the time.”
People move around us at various speeds, some shuffling along while others dart past, too rushed to experience the beauty of sunflowers and the ghost of Jules’ tulips. Voices are lost in too many conversations, and footsteps echo in the pursuit of shopping.
None of it matters, because nothing else exists. In this moment, there’s only Jules and me.
Her magnetism, and my resolve melting like steel.
“I’m dying to touch you.”
A small gasp escapes her lips. “Then touch me.” Her voice is sultry perfection as she speaks the words I’m aching to hear.
One step is all it takes to bring my body against hers. I settle my hands on her waist before slowly moving them down to her hips. She feels so tiny in my large hands. Tender soft to my unyielding hard. And fucking hell, am I hard.
“I’m leaving for Oklahoma City tomorrow.” I slide my fingers to the waistband of her jeans. As I slip them under the hem of her shirt, a tiny shudder spreads through her. She leans into me, her back warming my front, from the top of her spine to her sexy-as-hell ass. I press my cock against the small of her back.
“I know, Cash.”
My name on her lips is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever heard. Dancing my fingers over her warm skin, I’m tempted to explore every inch. I inhale a sharp breath. “I’m going to miss you like crazy.”
“What about your wife? Are you going to miss her?”
“I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Don’t you think it’s time we did?”
“Probably, but please, Jules. Don’t ruin this moment.”
Five seconds pass, rife with her silence. “I’m going to miss you too.”
Holding her feels natural. It feels right. I gather her in the shelter of my arms, and she curls her hands around my forearms, the soft pads of her fingertips creating circles of fire on my skin. My heart is knocking against my ribcage, and I’m certain she feels every violent beat.
“I’ll text you, okay?”
She breaks free of my embrace, and we’re back to standing inches apart without touching. “What are we doing?” she asks, fiddli
ng with the flowers again. “Nothing good is gonna come of this.”
I get what she’s saying, and as much as it hurts, I don’t blame her. Especially since she’s right. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Jules.”
“Maybe some time apart will be good for us. Give us both time to think about things…” Trailing off, she faces me with a gulp and wraps herself in the circle of her arms, as if to protect herself from me. “To think about where this is headed.”
As long as I’m still married, this is headed nowhere. It’s an ugly truth I don’t want to face. No matter what happens from here on out, someone is going to get hurt. “I know this isn’t fair to you,” I say.
Or to Monica.
That know-it-all-voice in my head is a bitch, because it’s telling me what I don’t want to hear; nothing can happen with Jules until I know where I stand in my marriage. Until I’ve given my all to salvaging what’s left of it. My father expects it. My conscience demands it. But my heart…well, that disloyal organ is already beating for the woman in front of me.
I’m fucking torn right down the middle.
“If life were fair, everyone would get what they want, right?” she says, tilting her head, blond hair sliding over her shoulder. “That would probably unbalance the cosmos or something.”
A smile twitches at the corners of my mouth. “I think the cosmos are already ten shades of unbalanced.” They have to be, to play such a cruel game. I pluck a bouquet from the display and give the attendant a twenty. “But you’re right about one thing,” I say, after we’ve wandered a few unhurried steps toward the exit of the market. “We do need to think about where this is headed.”
I hand her the flowers, and her lips part in surprise. I take advantage and kiss her on the cheek. “Don’t forget me while I’m gone, okay?”
Gazing into the bouquet, she tries to hide a smile but fails. “I couldn’t if I tried.”
19. Harsh Goodbyes
Cash
The next morning as I’m zipping up my carry-on, I find Monica standing in the open door of the guest room, still dressed in her robe.