If he could have, Brett would have gone back in time to stop her father from overdosing on heroin. The investigator he’d hired to track down her father had returned with the news that he’d died six months ago. Brett had considered that good news when he’d heard it, but now he wished he could give her the chance to face him. She may not realize it, but she was stronger than most people.
What he really wished, though, was that he could have saved her from him entirely. She should never have known a moment of pain or fear. It tore at him that she had. He wanted to swear then that no one would ever hurt her again. But I don’t have to look past my own family to see how little I actually know when it comes to protecting anyone.
I do understand regret, though.
And how to flog myself with the list of what I could have done differently.
His hand tightened on hers. He hadn’t expected to have as much in common with Alisha as he did. He saw her pain through the lens of his own and, for that reason, knew what she needed to hear. “You did what you had to do to survive. Forgive the child you were. She was an innocent in a situation she did nothing to create.”
A tear spilled down her cheek. He wiped it away gently. “I try to tell myself that, but it’s the believing that’s the hard part.”
He didn’t allow her to hide behind the dry joke. “Believe it. I’ve never met anyone more loyal or brave than you. Everything you went through made you into the beautiful woman I can’t stop following around like some smitten teenager.” He cupped her cheek with his hand. He’d never been big on compliments or gushing about how he felt, but he sensed that Alisha’s self-esteem needed bolstering. If being more open than he would normally be could help her see herself in a better light, then he would tell her everything he liked about her as often as she wanted to hear it.
“I am pretty fucking wonderful,” she joked as she regained her composure.
She’d made a joke to ease the tension of the moment. “You got that right.”
Their meals arrived, and as Alisha spoke with the waiter, Brett soaked in the deeper beauty of the woman sitting across from him. She could have let her childhood harden her, but she was stronger than that. The more he got to know her, the more he knew he’d never again meet a woman like her. The man who one day won her heart would never have to worry where her loyalties lay. She deserved someone who believed in forever, too.
Not someone like me.
A better man would have walked away from her then, but Brett wanted the next two days with her. Even if all they were was friends.
Victor’s voice rang in his head, “When you marry, Brett, only do so with a woman you also consider your friend.”
“I don’t believe in marriage,” Brett thought, not realizing he’d announced it aloud until he heard Alisha’s response.
“I don’t either,” she said after a pause. “It didn’t work out for my parents or yours. Most don’t last. That’s why I agreed to marry Spencer. It’s nothing more than a piece of paper nowadays. It’s easier to get out of a marriage than it is a mortgage.”
“Exactly,” Brett said, but he didn’t like how easily she agreed with him. He frowned. “You surprise me, though. I picture you pining for a house in the suburbs with kids and a dog.”
Her eyes narrowed. “First, I do have a house in the suburbs, and I want children. There is nothing wrong with that or the dog the kids will enjoy growing up with. I just don’t need a man to make any of that possible.”
His eyebrows shot up.
She added, “Besides the obvious contribution, but that can be done in a lab. It might even be better that way. I hate the idea of a man coming in and out of my child’s life.”
“Have you considered choosing one who’d stay?”
“This from a man who doesn’t believe in marriage, either?”
She had a point, but he liked the idea of her finding the right man and having the complete family package.
No. On second thought, he hated that idea because it meant imagining her with another guy.
He pushed his half-finished steak aside and stood. “Let’s get out of here. I need some air.”
She gathered her purse and stood. “Sure.” She studied his face, looking uncertain. “Don’t feel like you have to ask me to go with you.”
“Oh, you’re coming with me.”
She blinked in surprise, and her mouth opened as if to say she wasn’t, but then it closed without saying a word.
You don’t have to say it; I know I sound like an ass.
He cleared his throat and told himself to get a grip. I’m thirty-two. I’ve dated more women than I can remember the names of. I’ll survive not sleeping with you.
She looked up at him with those big blue eyes, and he groaned. Maybe.
He offered her his arm, and only because the truth of what he was thinking would have confirmed what a dick he was, he said, “You haven’t told me about your job. Kindergarten. I don’t know how you do it. I doubt I could get one five-year-old to do anything. I read an article about how academic the lower grades are now. That must be a challenge.”
“It is,” she said with enough wonder in her voice that he would have felt worse if her hand on his arm didn’t feel so damn good.
Chapter Sixteen
A few minutes later, Alisha and Brett were standing in front of his room’s door, which just so happened to be right next to hers. She put a hand on one hip and arched an eyebrow at him.
He grinned and shrugged a shoulder. “I was optimistic.”
There it was, that unrepentant, boyish charm Alisha couldn’t resist. “Apparently. Is that all it takes with most women? A connecting door?”
Still smiling, he crossed his arms in front of himself and leaned against the wall. “Usually much less. I’ve never had to work this hard to be with anyone.”
Alisha inhaled sharply. “Well, you can stop working at it because we’ve already agreed nothing is going to happen.”
He straightened and opened the door to his suite. “Which is why it’s perfectly safe for you to come in and see the view from the balcony. It’s spectacular.”
“I’m sure it is.” Even though she trusted him, going inside would test her resolve as well.
“Afraid?”
“No.”
“Worried you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”
She made a sarcastic sound in her throat. “Hardly.”
He stepped through the door and held it wide open. “Then come see the view.”
“I’m right next door. I have the same view.”
“Really?”
The way he asked piqued her curiosity. She peered inside. “Holy shit. This is what a suite looks like?” She stepped past him and craned her neck to see the second floor. The room was easily eight times the size of hers with floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides and a large balcony with a hot tub.
“I was pleasantly surprised myself.”
After gazing out the window, Alisha spotted a baby grand piano in a corner of the large living room area and moved toward it. A butler appeared, temporarily occupying Brett’s attention. Alisha ran her hand over the top of the piano, then pressed a few keys. It was nicely tuned.
Brett’s voice at her side made her jump. “Do you play?” he asked.
“We all do. Your mother played when she was young. It was important to her that we all learned as well. She paid for my lessons because my mother couldn’t afford them. She always made sure to include me.” A sad thought occurred to her that prompted a question before she had time to reconsider asking, “Do you play?”
“No,” he said abruptly.
“I’m—”
“Don’t say it. My mother’s choices are hers to apologize for.”
Alisha tried to think of something to say that would make it better, but fell silent when she failed.
He sighed. “She might have asked me to take them. I don’t remember. If she did, I’m sure I declined the offer. I didn’t want any part of the new
family she’d made for herself.”
There was a longing in his voice that she understood all too well. Even though she loved Stephanie and her children, when things had fallen apart, they’d pulled together—without her. It hurt, and she saw that same pain reflected in Brett’s eyes. More than anything, she wanted to give him a bridge to them. “Would you like to hear your mother’s favorite song?”
Their eyes met and held for a long moment. “Yes.”
That’s all it took for her heart to beat wildly and her body to quiver with desire she refused to give in to. The air sizzled. She was aware of every inch of him so near, every breath he took. He was as focused on her. It was dangerously intoxicating.
Alisha gave herself an inner shake and took a step back. She quickly sat at the piano and began to play the melody she’d heard Brett’s mother return to again and again over the years. The ragtime tune was exactly the distraction she was looking for. “It’s called ‘Blame It on the Blues.’ Stephanie said it was her father’s favorite. When her mother met him, he was playing in bars for extra money. That stopped when they got married, but he still wanted to smoke a cigar and have a whiskey while he played. Her mother hated that, but she hated the idea of him going off to a bar to play even more, so she’d open the windows and let him. I never met him, but there’s a photo of him at your mother’s house, and I can imagine him so clearly whenever I play the song.”
“I’ve seen photos of him.” Brett sat down on the bench beside Alisha. “He did love a cigar and a whiskey.”
The warm expression in Brett’s eyes had Alisha momentarily fumbling to remember the notes. I can’t think about how much I want those lips on mine or on any other part of me they’d like to wander to.
I shouldn’t even be here.
I should have said no and gone straight to my room.
But we’re not doing anything wrong.
I’m simply savoring the little time I’ll have with him. I can do that without taking this anywhere I’ll regret.
I won’t forget about everyone back home.
Alisha transitioned to a more modern beat. “Spencer always preferred contemporary artists.” She flowed from one song into another as she spoke. “Rachelle loves holiday music. Nicolette is a huge Mozart fan because she loves numbers and puzzles.”
“What about you?” he asked huskily.
His simple question was thick with intimate meaning, but she refused to acknowledge it. She was tempted to turn her head toward him, but if she did, she knew he’d kiss her.
And her resolve would crumble.
“I like jazz. I close my eyes and the peace of it sweeps over me.”
Swept away was close to how Brett felt when Alisha played as she described and gave herself over to the music. There was nothing overtly sexual about what she was doing, but he was torturing himself with the image of her talented fingers dancing their way off the keyboard and onto him.
He reminded himself of his promise: they would spend the next two days together without the pressure of more. Which meant he couldn’t give in to the urge to lean over and kiss her bare shoulder. He definitely couldn’t run his hand from her bare knee up her thigh, slide it beneath the light material of her dress to cup her sex. Taking her by the shoulders, turning her to face him on the bench so he could ease her down onto her back, was also strictly off-limits. As was ripping away her underclothing and spreading her wide for his hungry mouth.
If I’m not going to do anything, why the fuck did I invite her in?
Because no other woman has ever reduced me to this.
“You need to go,” he growled.
The music instantly stopped. Her eyes flew open, and her cheeks turned an embarrassed bright shade of red. “Oh. I didn’t mean to give you a full concert. I’m—” This time she stopped herself. “I haven’t played in a while, and it felt so good.”
Brett’s cock hardened at her choice of words. He stood. “I’ll show you out.”
He didn’t let the disappointed expression on her face deter him from opening the suite door and hustling her out of it. She looked confused by the snap in his voice, but he wasn’t about to explain that he was angry with himself for wanting to pull her back inside and fuck her against the door.
He was always in control—of himself and usually those around him. Alisha had somehow turned that all around. Turned him around. He could barely recognize himself when he was around her.
If the look in her eyes earlier was anything to go by, he was reasonably certain her no would turn to a moan of yes if he kissed her. She was as hot for him as he was for her, which only made it harder to keep his hands off her.
So why not do it?
Do her.
One time.
Or two. Maybe three.
And then we’d both be able to think straight again.
But then what?
Her promise to Rachelle is important to her, and her loyalty is part of her beauty.
Do I really want to take that from her?
“Good night.” His finality might work in business situations, but instead of leaving, Alisha stepped closer.
She cocked her head to one side and asked, “Are you angry with me? Did I say something wrong?” How could she think that?
He took a deep, fortifying breath. She’s only asking because I’m acting like an utter ass. “No. Tonight was great.” Just great. “See you tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
After watching her walk to her room and let herself in, he closed the door with more force than he’d meant to. He spent a while looking at the connecting door on the inside wall. What would he do if she knocked?
I’d let her in.
That was a stupid question.
She didn’t knock, so he made his way up the stairs to his bedroom, shed his clothes, and took a very cold shower.
Chapter Seventeen
The first thing Alisha saw when she entered her room was the small gift box on the middle of her bed. She sat down and picked it up. It was the jewelry box she’d refused at dinner. Its presence confused her as much as the night had. He’d spent the first part of the evening convincing her that they should spend time together, then practically tossed her out of his suite.
Was it because she’d offended him by talking about his family as if they were strangers to him? In a way they were.
No. His response had been tender and sincere. “You did what you had to do to survive. Forgive the child you were. She was an innocent in a situation she did nothing to create.” So was he, to some extent. Just a different but equally tragic one.
So, why the gift? Had he left it before he realized she wouldn’t sleep with him? Was it supposed to be a high-priced thanks-for-the-romp gift? Something impersonal he ordered in bulk and gave to all his hookups?
I’ll never know if I don’t open it.
She hesitated. I can’t keep it, but I can’t send it back without knowing what it is.
She lifted the cover off. “Aww.” It was a simple blue lanyard for her room key that was engraved with her initials. Not expensive but incredibly thoughtful—and perfect. She hadn’t realized that it was necessary to have her room key with her at all times because it served as an ID and was used to purchase items on the ship. Most people bought simple plastic card holders. After hearing Brett describe a cruise as a way of being moved around like cattle, she doubted he’d been on one before. How would he know that she’d need a lanyard?
She hunted down her phone, signed up for the onboard Internet package, and sent him a text. I love it. Thank you.
He didn’t answer right away, so she put her phone down and went to change into her pajamas. After brushing her teeth and attempting to read a book, she gave up and flopped back onto her bed. How would sleep be possible when all that separated her from Brett was one door?
And my promise to Rachelle.
Her phone finally pinged with an incoming message. I hoped you would.
It’s perfect. How did you know I’d need one
?
I read a blog about cruises after you told me you were going on one.
Alisha was so touched by the idea of him researching what she would need that she didn’t know how to respond.
Up for a run in the morning? he asked.
She picked up the lanyard. There was nothing impersonal about his gift. He might not be a man who intended to stick around, but that didn’t make being with him feel any less wonderful. Yes.
Eight o’clock.
I’ll be ready.
Alisha lay in bed for a long time thinking about Rachelle and the request she’d made. Was it fair? No. Could she understand how Rachelle might feel that her dating Brett could make a bad situation even worse?
Yes. Unfortunately, she could.
She eventually fell into a restless sleep. The next morning she woke, freshened up, gathered her hair up in a ponytail, donned a T-shirt and shorts, and was tying the shoelaces on her running shoes when a knock came at the door. Before opening it, she told herself she had done nothing wrong. She’d been honest with Rachelle. Honest with Brett. She hadn’t invited him on the cruise, but he was there. What was she supposed to do? Ignore him?
She opened the door. If possible, Brett looked even better than he had the night before. His running shorts accentuated his muscular thighs and his T-shirt complemented the broad shoulders and flat stomach he’d jokingly boasted about the night before. There wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t deliciously fit.
His eyes looked a little tired. She fantasized that sleeping with only a door separating them had been just as difficult for him as it had been for her.
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