The Promise of Love

by Lori Foster

  seven

  Frustrated, uncomfortable, and sweaty, not to mention more than a tad cranky, Maya stripped bare, then dove into the deep end of the pool where she pounded the water for four full lengths. The water, cool against her heated skin, did little to lessen her anger—at Burnett and herself.

  Little good a punishing workout would do her tonight after Burnett’s hurtful rejection. Swimming away the sexual frustration that had been her constant companion since he’d barged into her life was nothing but an exercise in futility. He’d made her hungry for more than just the company of another human being, for the promise of hope. The hope of more. The hope of normal. In truth, she almost envied him. She wished she were capable of turning off her emotions as easily as he had done.

  She didn’t know if he was watching her tonight or not, and quite frankly she didn’t much care one way or the other. At least that’s what she tried to make herself believe. She planned to complete her workout and then escape back into the house where she would go back to microwave dinners in front of the television and only her own sorry self for company. After his cold rejection, there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d ever put herself out there like that again and risk having the invitation thrown so cruelly back at her.

  Lungs near bursting, she surfaced and took in huge gulps of air. God, what had gone wrong? For the past two weeks she’d come to believe that her scars didn’t matter to him. He’d never shrunk away from her, never once looked at her in horror the way Gavin had done that morning in a New York hospital following the accident. She and Burnett had even discussed the accident that had ended her career, how she’d gone with Gavin to a party in the Hamptons and the argument they’d had because Todd Cantrell, a photographer at the party, had come on to her. She’d been furious with Gavin for behaving like a possessive ass and so she’d left the party with Todd when he’d offered to drive her back to the city. She knew he’d been drinking, but she hadn’t realized how much, until it was too late.

  The accident had been her fault as much as Todd’s, but despite her injuries she had survived. Todd hadn’t. And that was a truth she’d had to live with every day.

  Hanging on to the side of the pool, she did a series of leg exercises and still couldn’t come up with a plausible answer for Burnett’s abrupt departure. Now that the sting of his rejection wasn’t as sharp as it had been a few hours ago, she suspected her physical appearance was not responsible for his about-face. Something had spooked him, but what?

  Maybe he just wasn’t interested, she thought as she slipped beneath the water and swam the length of the pool again. But that hardly made sense, either, because he’d watched her night after night. She came up for air and frowned. Maybe he was merely being nice to the cripple because he’d been taught not to kick puppies, pull the tails of kittens, or be rude to people with scars. What if the only reason he kept coming for supper night after night was because her cooking skills were better than average and he hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in months? Maybe all the appetite he had was for food and not her.

  He watched her—from a distance. Because he couldn’t stomach her scars?

  She let out a frustrated groan and pushed off the side. That made no sense. He’d touched her face and he hadn’t so much as blinked. He’d cupped her twisted flesh in his warm palm and kissed her. Like he meant it. How many times had she caught him looking at her, those get-lost-in-me eyes of his simmering with desire? Practically every night they’d been together, that’s how many.

  She ignored the twinge of pain in her hip, and her heart, and pushed herself harder. So what the hell was his problem? She was no blushing virgin. She knew a thing or two about desire, and damn it, he’d wanted her tonight. Perhaps alcohol wasn’t the only vice he’d given up in his bid for sobriety. Just her luck. The moment she realizes her sex drive is alive and well, the one man she decides she wants to take a test drive with is on a sexual sabbatical.

  She hit the side, spun, and pushed off for another underwater lap. Maybe she should take matters into her own hands. Shyness had never been one of her failings, so why didn’t she just tell him she wanted to have sex with him?

  She broke the surface of the water and latched on to the side for another set of leg exercises. Because she was afraid, that’s why. Afraid he’d reject her.

  Again.

  Which was plain stupid, she thought, and lost count of her leg lifts. The flrst night they’d had dinner together he’d told her he was attracted to her. How had that changed?

  She let out a growl of annoyance with a hefty dose of disappointment and a dash of self-pity thrown in for good measure and slipped beneath the water to swim across the pool and back again. When she came up for air, she came nose to toe with a battered pair of brown loafers. Tipping her head back to get a better look, she frowned because her heart did a little flip as it always did whenever she saw Burnett. She was angry at him for hurting her, angry at herself for being hurt. Even if she did want to tear off his clothes, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see him right now. She was too vulnerable, too raw.

  Too damned thrilled to see him.

  She frowned at him. “You’re bad news, Dupree, you know that?”

  A half smile tipped his mouth. He crouched down and rested his forearm over his knee. “Would it help if I apologized?” he asked, looking contrite.

  For a split second she hated him for making her care. “What exactly are you apologizing for?” When he said nothing, she added, “Feel free to jump in and defend yourself at any time.”

  He reached out to touch her, but she pulled back, afraid if he did her resolve to stay angry with him would crumble like a cheap promise.

  “I hurt you tonight, and I’m sorry.”

  Her heart pounded so hard, she was certain he could hear it. “Care to explain what happened back there? I thought . . .” What? That he was going take her right there on the kitchen table?

  A girl can hope.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I think we’ve already established that you did.”

  He shook his head. “You know I can’t stay here.”

  She blew out a stream of breath and pushed off the side of the pool. “No one’s asking you to.” Irritated, she slipped beneath the water to swim to the other side. She understood. He was a playwright and his work required him to be in New York for months on end. She had no intention of ever going back to the city that had essentially rejected her once she was damaged goods.

  But that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other for what time they did have together. Did it?

  A renewed spark of anger had her surfacing and wiping water from her eyes so she could glare at him from across the pool. “What did you think was going to happen? We’d have sex and I’d beg you to stay in New Orleans? Boy”—she issued a caustic burst of laughter—“you have a very high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”

  He frowned suddenly. He looked formidable and sexy, and God help her, she wanted him despite the fact that her common sense was practically screaming at her to run as far away in the opposite direction as she could.

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said, “and you know it.”

  She’d had enough. Of him. Of her own stupidity. Heading to the ladder, she exited the pool and limped unashamedly to the Adirondack chairs where she’d left her robe and a large fluffy towel. After wrapping herself in the towel, she turned to face him. “I don’t know any such thing,” she said, squeezing the excess water from her hair, “because you didn’t bother to stick around long enough to at least explain yourself. What the hell was that?”

  He straightened and started toward her. The determination evident in his eyes had her breath hitching. She thought about listening to her common sense and running but stood her ground instead. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance of survival in New Orleans that she’d run and hide from him. Not anymore. She was pissed off and her pride was hurt, but damn it, she’d survive. She’d survived worse.

  He
stopped inches in front of her. “I’m here now,” he said. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “Not really,” she shot back. But yes, he was here now. Was it enough? Could she settle for now with no promise of more?

  She could smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne, could feel the heat emanating from his body while hers hummed with anticipation. Using every ounce of restraint she possessed, she kept her hands at her sides because God help her, she still wanted him. Wanted to slip her arms around him, to have his arms around her, to feel his body slide into hers as they made love.

  She shrugged her shoulders as if she didn’t care. A lie. He made her want things she had no business wanting. Like tomorrow. Like a bunch of tomorrows.

  “I want you, Maya.”

  She tried to remember to breathe. He wanted her.

  For now.

  She let out an unsteady breath. She could be all grown up about it, pretend she was the kind of woman to answer a booty call then walk away. But the truth was something else entirely. She wasn’t the type to have sex without at least a hint of something more.

  Could sex with Burnett be enough? she wondered. Maybe. Because try as she might, she couldn’t flnd a single thing wrong with wanting to be held, to feel passion, even for one night. Problem was, she did want more. She’d always want more.

  She let out a resigned sigh. More just wasn’t in the cards for her. Not any longer. That kind of future had been destroyed because of one horrendously bad decision. What she wanted and what she could have were never one and the same. She knew that. But was she strong enough to accept it where Burnett was concerned?

  She had to be, she decided, and took a step toward him. “I know,” she said, surprised that her voice worked. She moved closer and rested her hand on his chest. Through the thin fabric of his gauzy shirt, his heart beat sure and strong beneath her palm. She drew strength from his nearness. “I want you, too.”

  He settled his hand over hers and laced their flngers together. “Then what the hell are we doing?”

  “Avoiding the truth,” she said.

  “Which is?”

  She smiled, then gave his hand a light tug, pulling him with her toward the house. “Which is better left alone,” she answered. She stopped at the door and turned toward him. “No regrets allowed, Burnett.” Whether she meant for herself or for him, she wasn’t exactly certain. “We walk through this door, and we leave regret outside.”

  “You sure about that?”

  No.

  “Absolutely.” Her voice came out a whole lot stronger than she was feeling as she reached behind and twisted the doorknob. He followed her inside, through the mudroom, across the kitchen where they’d spent so much of their time together, and finally down the corridor to the study she’d converted into her first-floor bedroom.

  She didn’t bother with candles or soft music. They both knew what they wanted, and for her it was sex, pure and raw. She’d probably end up broken emotionally in some form or another, but the promise of intimacy was too tempting to resist. No regrets, she reminded herself as she turned to face him.

  With the simple flick of his finger, the knot of her towel gave way and she was naked before him. She struggled with the urge to cover herself. Ridiculous, considering he’d seen her naked in the pool so often, but this was different. This time he was up close and personal. This time she was more than just nude, she was vulnerable. In her mind, that made all the difference in the world.

  She reached for the buttons on his shirt, but he clasped his hands over hers and moved them so her arms wreathed his neck instead. With her body pressed against his, the filmy material of his shirt rubbed against her naked breasts, making them ache for his touch, for his kisses.

  “You have on entirely too many clothes,” she told him.

  He chuckled. “Indulge me,” he whispered, bending to nip at the tender skin on her shoulder as his hands swept down her back to cup her rear.

  As his fingers skimmed her bottom, she tried not to think about the scars on her upper thigh, where they’d taken skin to use in the numerous plastic surgeries on her face. “Hmmmm,” she murmured as his mouth and hands warmed her skin. “Indulge your fantasy?”

  He looked at her, his mouth tipped into a crooked smile. “Something like that,” he said, then caught her lips in a hot, openedmouthed kiss, deep-sixing her common sense and emotional survival skills.

  Desire ripped through her, making her ache for more intimate contact. The press of his mouth against hers made her dizzy and had her toes curling. Digging her flngers into his shoulders for support, she clung to him.

  Suddenly the mattress brushed against the back of her legs. She hadn’t even realized he’d moved them toward the bed, but she welcomed the soft warmth of the worn quilt when he carefully eased her down upon the mattress.

  She reached again for the buttons on his shirt. “Indulge me,” she whispered when his mouth left hers to nuzzle her neck.

  This time he didn’t stop her from unbuttoning his shirt. She slid the lightweight fabric from his wide shoulders, marveling at the lean, hard length of his body, the hills and valleys of his muscular, masculine landscape. Her heart beat heavily in her chest. God, how she wanted this man. Any chance of ever showing him cool indifference evaporated at the feel of his torso rubbing up against her. He was so beautiful, so perfect, she nearly wept at the irony. And for tonight, he was hers.

  He rested his weight on his forearms. Her breath caught at the unabashed heat simmering in his eyes when he looked down at her. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he asked.

  Once. Maybe. She’d been told that enough by those who’d photographed her, hired her, filled her head with bullshit praise made of nothing but hot air, all contrived to feed her ego so they could manipulate her into doing whatever they wanted her to do. But that was a lifetime ago and she was no longer that person, inside or out, she realized. She’d changed, not just physically, but emotionally. She’d grown up—a lot—in the past two years. But change was not something she wanted to discuss or even think about tonight. Tonight was supposed to be all about Burnett and passion and orgasms.

  “You talk too much,” she said. With a light press of her fingers to the back of his head, she brought his mouth down to hers for another kiss that had her body shifting restlessly beneath his.

  Taking the hint, he dipped his head and laved the slope of her breast. Palming the weight in his hand, he traced his thumb across her nipple, sending a sharp tug of desire through her. When he took her into his heated mouth, she moaned at the exquisite pleasure.

  Burnett skimmed his hand over Maya’s bare hip, reveling in the silkiness of her skin beneath his fingertips. The feel of her, her softness, her scent, an intoxicating blend of some exotic flower he couldn’t name combined with a seductive hint of musk, filled his senses. She had his dick hard and throbbing beneath his khakis.

  She reached for his belt. He didn’t stop her eager fingers from working the leather free. When she slid down the zipper of his trousers and slipped her hand beneath the fabric of his boxer briefs to wrap her long fingers around the length of him, he nearly came out of his skin.

  Need spiraled and settled in his sex, making him throb for even more intimate contact. With each gentle tug and pull of her hand, his breathing labored. If he didn’t stop her, he’d end up coming in her hand. Freeing himself from her questing fingers, he urged her back against the mattress, then moved down her body, using his hands and his mouth. He teased her belly button, pressed open her thighs, and used his fingers to delve between her soft, dewy folds to her heated core. She cried out and arched against his hand when he slowly pumped his fingers in, then out, to cover her with her own moisture.

  The scent of her sex drew him, and he tormented them both with quick kisses and teasing lashes of his tongue over her clit. Heaven never tasted so sweet or so powerful. He swept his tongue over her, laving, tasting, teasing, loving. Her body came alive, her desire pooled on his tongue
as he pushed her closer to release and then finally over the edge, and she came, his name on her lips.

  For a split second, Burnett mourned the loss of heat when he left her to shed the remainder of his clothes before rejoining her on the bed. He swept his tongue into her mouth, teasing, tasting her until she writhed against him. Despite her earlier orgasm, with one single kiss he awakened her body again. Want, desire, and need all clamored inside him. He could barely think straight, but one thing he knew inexplicably—he’d give just about anything if the erotic sensations rippling through his body never ended.

  He clasped her face between his palms and angled her head so he could deepen the kiss. There’d been plenty of women in his past, but he couldn’t recall ever being so drawn to a woman as he was Maya. In the brief time they’d spent together since his coming home to New Orleans, he suspected what he felt for her went far beyond anything he’d ever experienced in his past. Women came and went, and that had always suited him just flne. But not Maya. With her, he wanted something he didn’t have the tools to define.

  Forever?

  Hardly. More like for as long as it lasted. Except his usual modus operandi didn’t feel right. Not with her.

  He was screwed and he knew it, because somewhere in the back of his mind he’d known since he first watched her dive naked into the pool that something about her was different. He’d known attraction, sexual attraction, in particular. But with Maya, he wanted something deeper and more profound. He wanted . . .

  Forever.

  Not a chance. Burnett Dupree didn’t do forever. He did for as long as the good times lasted. When things got too heavy or complicated, he was gone. Lower the curtain, end of show. He’d even tried to walk away tonight, but here he was, a few short hours later, making love to her, with no intention of leaving her any time soon. With Maya he wanted complicated. He wanted messy. He wanted her, and that excited him, yet at the same time it scared the hell out of him.