Her Best-Kept Secret

by Harlen, Brenda

  Jenny watched the play of emotions across his face. Panic, frustration, resignation. She knew he was the kind of man who would insist on being there for his child—even if the child was unplanned and unwanted. Thankfully, she took her own precautions. The last thing she wanted was a man tied to her for all the wrong reasons.

  “Then there’s nothing to worry about, Richard.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I’m on birth control,” she said softly.

  “Oh.” He exhaled, obviously relieved.

  “I got carried away in the moment, too,” she admitted. “But I wouldn’t risk bringing an unwanted child into this world.”

  “Unplanned doesn’t always mean unwanted,” he said gently.

  “Maybe not,” she agreed. “But as much as I want children someday, I wouldn’t let any baby of mine ever think it was a mistake.”

  “I still owe you an apology.”

  She shook her head. “We’re both equally to blame.”

  “I just don’t want you to think that I’m in the habit of overlooking something so basic.”

  She managed a smile. “I think your immediate reaction proved otherwise.”

  Richard sighed. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

  “You don’t sound happy about it.”

  “It scares me, that I could need you so desperately I would forget about everything else.”

  Her heart warmed at this reluctant admission.

  “And it scares me,” he continued, “that you want things I can’t give you. I’m not in a position to think about marriage or a family.”

  Some of the warmth dissipated now, but she asked lightly, “Have I asked you for any of those things?”

  “No. But I know you want them.”

  She nodded. “But I don’t expect them from you. I knew from the beginning that our relationship would have boundaries—I accepted those the night I went back to your hotel room.”

  “Maybe that’s what bothers me,” he said. “You deserve more.”

  “And some day I’ll have more,” she said. “For now, I only want to be with you.”

  Although the drive back to Tokyo was filled with easy conversation and comfortable silences, Jenny’s heart grew heavier with each mile. She always regretted having to leave the cabin, but her disappointment was even stronger this time because she knew that when they reached the city, the magic of her weekend with Richard would be gone.

  She parked in her usual spot beneath the hotel. It was a reasonable walk—or a short subway ride—to her apartment, and it was a lot cheaper to keep her car here than to pay the premium for a parking space closer to her residence.

  While they were at the lake, neither had broached the topic of what would happen when the weekend was over. As Jenny unlocked the trunk, she felt awkward wondering whether it would be more appropriate to say good-night or goodbye.

  Before she could decide, Richard spoke.

  “Will you stay here with me tonight?”

  She hadn’t anticipated the question, and though she was pleased that he’d asked—grateful to know that he was as reluctant as she to let the weekend end—she knew she should say no. She should go back to her apartment, to give herself some time and space to think. But even knowing their relationship had no future, she wasn’t ready to give him up just yet.

  “We both have to work in the morning,” she said.

  It wasn’t a yes or a no but an indication that she was willing to be persuaded.

  He hefted his duffel bag onto one shoulder, snaked his other arm around her waist. “There are a lot of hours yet between now and then.”

  His smile was slow and sexy, filled with promises she knew he could fulfill. She felt her insides quiver.

  It terrified her, this reaction to him. He didn’t even have to touch her. All it took was a glance, maybe just the hint of a smile, and she was overwhelmed with need for him.

  It had never been like this for her before—so completely all-encompassing. She’d never needed anyone as she needed him.

  No—she shook off the thought. It wasn’t Richard. It was just the newness of their relationship, the fresh blush of desire finally realized.

  But even as her mind struggled to rationalize her feelings, she knew it wasn’t true. Because she’d been in relationships before—starry-eyed with infatuation and full of confidence for the future.

  This was different.

  Partly because she already knew there could be no future for her and Richard. Partly because she knew, in her heart, that nothing that had come before compared to what she felt for Richard now. Mostly because she was afraid she would never feel this way again.

  Why did she always have to dream the impossible dream? Why couldn’t she simply accept what was without wanting more? Why couldn’t she enjoy the time she had with Richard now and not worry about what would happen when he was gone?

  She had no answers to these questions, no way to soothe the uneasiness in her heart.

  It scared her to think how much he’d come to mean to her in such a short amount of time, to realize she was already in danger of falling in love with him. She knew it just as surely as she knew that she would be the one left alone and hurting when he was gone. But that was a problem she could worry about tomorrow.

  “I’ll stay,” she said.

  Within minutes they were in his suite, their clothes making a trail from the door to the bedroom.

  He’d lost count of the number of times they’d made love since that first momentous occasion Friday night. Every time he thought he was satisfied, desire stirred anew. Then desire would give way to demand. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her. No matter how many times he had her, he wanted her more.

  He wanted her now.

  He forced himself to take it slowly, exploring every inch of her body, lingering where he knew it pleased her, reveling in the sound of her soft sighs and moans.

  He made his way down the length of her body, exploring her with his hands, his lips, his tongue. He paused at her hip, touched the small heart-shaped mark. “Is this a tattoo?”

  “No.” She laughed softly. “Just a birthmark.”

  “I like it.” He lowered his head and pressed his lips to the spot, then traced the outline with his tongue.

  She squirmed, the instinctive movement arousing him beyond belief. He gripped her hips, holding her still while his mouth moved lower. He heard her suck in a breath as his tongue flicked over her, then a gasp as he brought her to the brink of climax, and a long, throaty moan as he pushed her over the edge.

  Monday morning, Richard got an extra key card from the front desk for Jenny. He didn’t know how long he was going to be tied up in meetings during the day, and he liked the idea of her being there when he got back to his room. He wanted to spend every minute that he could with her.

  It was almost eight o’clock when he got in Tuesday night, and she was there as she had been the night before, sitting at the desk, her fingers clicking away on the keys of her laptop. The sight of her tugged at something inside him.

  She glanced up when he entered, her lips curving. “Hi.”

  He dropped his briefcase inside the door and crossed over to her. “Hi, yourself.” Then he bent his head to kiss her, long and lingering.

  He pushed the chair away from the desk and drew her to her feet, all without taking his lips from hers. She came into his arms willingly, her body melting against his. He knew he could have her naked in his bed in about thirty seconds flat, but he was learning to draw out the pleasure of just being with her and enjoying every minute.

  When he finally eased his lips from hers he asked, deliberately casual, “How was your day?”

  She tipped her head against his chest and sighed. “Well, it could have been worse.”

  “What happened?”

  “I ran into my sister-in-law-in the lobby.”

  He was silent, waiting for her to elaborate, because so far he wasn’t seeing the probl
em.

  “At 7:00 a.m.”

  “Oh.”

  She nodded.

  “What was she doing here at that hour?”

  “John forgot some kind of report or something at home, and she came by to drop it off.”

  He massaged her shoulders gently, loosening the tight muscles. “Are you worried that she’ll tell your brother?”

  “I’m twenty-five years old, Richard. I hardly need his permission to sleep with you.”

  But the tension in her shoulders told a different story.

  “And anyway, I don’t think Mich will go running to tell him.”

  “But the possibility concerns you,” he guessed.

  She hesitated. “I’m just worried that my family will think our being together means something.”

  He had no right to take offense at her words, but he couldn’t deny that her casual dismissal of what was between them bothered him. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and took a step back. “And of course it doesn’t mean anything, right?”

  “I just don’t want my mother thinking about wedding bells when we both know we don’t have a future together.”

  Frustration tangled with the hurt and anger. “Why do you keep bringing up the end of our relationship as if it’s a foregone conclusion?”

  “Because you’ll be going back to Chicago when the negotiations are finished.”

  He didn’t know why he was pushing her. He should be grateful she’d accepted the parameters of their relationship. Instead he said, “Neither one of us can predict the future.”

  Jenny moved to wrap her arms around him. “I know, and I don’t want to waste the time we do have together arguing about this.”

  “Okay,” he agreed. “Let’s argue about something else.”

  She exhaled wearily. “Obviously you have something specific on your mind.”

  He nodded. “Why do you sneak out of here at 7:00 a.m.?”

  This time she stepped away. “I don’t sneak.”

  He wasn’t going to debate semantics. “It doesn’t make sense that you have to get up an extra hour early every morning to go home and change before work.”

  “I can hardly wear the same clothes as the day before,” she pointed out logically.

  “You’re deliberately missing my point.”

  “I just don’t see why it should matter to you.”

  “It matters because I can think of more productive ways to spend the time than on the subway.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Maybe she didn’t, but he sure as hell did.

  She’d told him from the beginning that she didn’t do casual relationships. For the past several years, he hadn’t been capable of anything more. But he’d pursued her anyway, selfishly and relentlessly, and he’d got what he wanted.

  Except that suddenly he wanted more.

  “Why don’t you want to bring any of your stuff here?”

  She hesitated, just a second, before responding. “I don’t want to take anything for granted.”

  “Or is it that you don’t want me to take anything for granted?”

  “We both know this relationship is only temporary.”

  And so their disagreement had come full circle again.

  He sighed, accepting that he wasn’t going to be able to change her mind about a point he’d made so clearly from the start. Instead he said, “If we only have a few weeks together, I want to spend every minute I possibly can with you.”

  She hesitated a moment before nodding. “I’ll go home after work tomorrow to pick up a few things.”

  “Thank you.” He brushed his lips over hers again. “I could meet you at your apartment, make dinner for you.”

  “Are you growing bored with the hotel menu?” she asked.

  “Maybe I just want to cook for you.”

  “That’s an offer I won’t refuse,” she told him.

  Jenny was surveying the contents of her closet, trying to decide which clothes she should take to the hotel. Nerves skittered inside her belly, not because it mattered what she wore to work the next day but because the idea of moving in with Richard—however temporarily—terrified her.

  She hadn’t expected so much to change so fast.

  Friday morning she’d been firm in her resolve to keep Richard at a distance. Friday night she’d spent the night in his bed, in his arms. Every night since then had been the same.

  Now it was Wednesday, she’d left him less than twelve hours earlier, and she was missing him already.

  She finally decided on a navy pin-striped skirt and a sleeveless silk blouse. She found matching shoes and threw them into a bag along with her underwear and toiletries.

  Pushing the closet door shut, she decided that one outfit was enough. One day at a time.

  Her heart leaped at the knock on the door, and she chided herself for the reaction. This wasn’t high school and she wasn’t waiting on her date for the prom. She was a grown woman and it was Richard—there was no reason for her sudden jitters. The pep talk did little to settle the quiver in her belly.

  He greeted her as he’d got into the habit of doing, with a long slow kiss that made everything inside her melt into a puddle at her feet. There was no doubt that Richard Warren was a first-rate kisser and she sighed, blissfully, contentedly, as she gave herself up to the mastery of his lips.

  Tonight, it was a hands-off kiss as he had a bag of groceries in one hand and a flat, wrapped parcel in the other.

  “How did you manage at the market?” she asked, when the kiss finally ended.

  “I took Yasushi with me,” he admitted. “I could tell he was curious as to where I’d be cooking dinner, but he’s too polite to ask.”

  “I’m curious, too,” she told him. “About what’s in the package.”

  “It’s a present.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes, for you.” He offered it to her. “But you have to let me put this food away before you open it.”

  She helped him unpack the groceries, her curiosity growing by the minute.

  Richard sensed her mounting excitement, as well as her careful restraint. He remembered her surprised pleasure when he’d bought her the oyster shell doll and wondered if no one had ever given her presents just for the fun of it.

  “Okay,” he said, when he’d closed the fridge door. “Open it.”

  She tore at the plain brown paper with unbridled enthusiasm, then gasped as the painting was revealed.

  “Summer Passion.” She murmured the title softly, recognizing it immediately. Then she looked up at him, stunned. “How—”

  “I saw the way you looked at it, that night at the gallery, and I knew I had to buy it for you.”

  “It’s—wow—I never expected anything like this.”

  He grinned. “And I never expected to find you at a loss for words.”

  “I shouldn’t accept this,” she said, but her fingers gripped the edge of the frame as if she would never let it go.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I saw the price tag and—”

  “Do you like it, Jenny?” he interrupted to ask patiently.

  She sighed. “You know I do.”

  “Then that’s all that matters.”

  “I was going to buy it,” she murmured. “But when I went back the next day, it had a sold tag on it.”

  “I bought it that night but agreed to let the gallery keep it on display through the weekend.”

  She frowned. “We weren’t even lovers then.”

  He smiled. “But I knew we would be.”

  “That was quite an assumption to make.”

  “I was right,” he reminded her.

  “And I’m too thrilled to have this painting to be annoyed by your smugness.” She tore off the last of the paper and tucked the picture under her arm. “Come on. I know exactly where I’m going to put it.”

  He followed her to the bedroom. She closed the door behind him, leaned the painting against the wall, then started to peel away her c
lothes.

  He watched, his initial fascination quickly supplanted by growing arousal. She was so incredibly beautiful, stunningly passionate, perfect. Okay, he knew she wasn’t actually perfect, but she was perfect to him in all the ways that mattered.

  She unclipped her bra and added it to the pile of clothing already on the floor.

  He swallowed, hard. “I thought you were going to show me where you wanted to hang the painting.”

  “I will.” She smiled as she tugged him down onto the bed with her. “After I show you how grateful I am.”

  Jenny gulped down a second cup of coffee as she hastily scanned the financial section of the Japan Times. Although it was a competitor of the Tokyo Tribune and, therefore, not a newspaper to which she subscribed, it was the morning daily that was provided to guests of the hotel and she justified her reading of it as a way of keeping up-to-date with the stories and style of the other paper.

  Richard held out a hand as he joined her at the table, and she automatically handed him the front section. If she’d thought about it, she’d be surprised how quickly they’d established a comfortable morning routine. It was almost as if they’d been together for months instead of just ten days, and it was all too easy for Jenny to envision a life with Richard, a home together.

  A few more of her clothes hung in the closet now, her toiletries stood next to his in the bathroom, and the novel she was currently reading sat on the bedside table. But the embroidered insignia on the towels and the meals delivered by room service were constant reminders that this was a hotel rather than a home. They were conveniences that reminded Jenny she didn’t belong here—and that she didn’t belong with Richard.

  With that thought weighing heavy on her mind, she passed the rest of the paper to him. “I have to run or I’m going to be late.”

  “What’s your hurry today?”

  “Meeting with my editor.” She brushed her lips over his. “I’ll see you later.”

  She escaped from the hotel, chased by the guilty knowledge that she’d deliberately lied to him. She wasn’t running to a meeting—she was running away from the feelings she could no longer deny.