“Psh!” Elizabeth brushed that comment away with a wave of her hand. “That’s just his stupidity, and he could get over that in a minute. I’m saying that it’s not a question of your not being worthy of him. It’s a question of him not being worthy of you. Is he or is he not a selfish, arrogant, narrow-minded, heartless bastard who has treated you like nothing but trash?”
Allison gasped, immediately riling up at the words. “He is not! He’s not heartless at all—he’s protective of his feelings because he’s been hurt, and so he just comes across that way. And he’s not really selfish. Yes, he can be—I mean, he’s used to getting what he wants. But you should have seen him with the demonstrators about the lighthouse. And with Ingrate. And he didn’t treat me like a trash. He never made any pretense. He’s no teddy-bear or whipped puppy, but at heart he’s really sensitive. And…and…sweet…”
She trailed off, blazing with embarrassment as she realized how much she’d given away in her fatuous outburst.
Elizabeth burst into delighted chortles, and Lori's smile melted into an absurdly sentimental expression.
Allison stiffened. “You did that on purpose—to make me say all that ridiculous stuff.”
“It’s not ridiculous if you mean it,” Lori said.
Elizabeth nodded. “And we were both getting sick of your trying to be all stoic instead of just admitting that you’ve fallen hard for the sweet, sensitive asshole.”
Despite herself, Allison leaned back and smiled. “Fine. Yes, I’ve fallen for him. I’m kind of afraid I’m crazy about him, but what possible good will it do me? Nothing can happen between us.”
“Why not?” Lori asked. “How do you know he doesn’t feel the same way? How did you leave it with him?”
Allison cringed. “I…I just left.”
Lori looked confused, but Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “You left? You didn’t sneak out before he woke up in the morning, did you?”
With a gulp, Allison admitted, “Yeah.”
“Allison!” Lori exclaimed in obvious dismay. “Why did you do that?”
“I was scared and embarrassed, and I didn’t know what to say. And I was afraid if I stayed any longer I wouldn’t be able to…I mean…Damn it, Lori, the world is not a fairy tale, and there’s a little thing called self-preservation.”
“Obviously, the attempt didn’t work,” Elizabeth said.
“No. It didn’t. I’m a mess.” She blew out a breath. “I feel kind of bad that I left. He’d been entirely decent to me that evening, and the sex was…it was really good.” Her cheeks reddened again at Elizabeth’s gleeful look. “Seriously, what was I supposed to say? 'Thanks for some more great orgasms—I’ve got a train to catch’?”
“That would have been better than saying nothing. You might have hurt his feelings.”
Allison made a face at Lori’s reproachful comment. “I doubt it. I mean, not seriously. It wasn’t like he was spouting out vows of eternal love and devotion. It was sex. We barely said anything at all.”
“Then why are you so hung up on him if it felt so empty?” Elizabeth asked.
“It didn’t feel empty.” Allison closed her eyes and tried to explain. “It doesn’t feel empty between us. It feels…”
“Like love?” Lori asked breathlessly.
Allison shrugged and stared down at her cappuccino. “I don’t know. It just feels …significant.”
“Then why did you leave without working things out?” Lori asked. “If it felt significant—”
“It felt like that before,” Allison interrupted, her voice almost harsh as she struggled with emotion. “Every time we've been together it’s felt significant, and he’s always just moved on.”
The table was silent, and she knew her friends were staring at her, worried about her. She felt like a fool, and she wished she could be the smart, no-nonsense professional she tried so hard to be.
So often, she still felt like the eighteen-year-old who'd been hopelessly in love with an unattainable man.
No one spoke for a few minutes, each lost in their thoughts.
Then Elizabeth said, “Uh, Allison. For once, I think I have to agree with Lori on this.”
Allison drew her brows together. “What are you talking about?”
Elizabeth seemed to be looking over Allison’s shoulder rather than directly at her. “As much as I hate to admit it, Lori’s romanticized musings about how he's probably secretly in love with you might have some basis in fact.”
“Elizabeth, what the hell do you mean?”
“There’s a very sexy business tycoon outside the window with a brown dog. And he appears to be staring at you. I could be wrong, but I believe Michael Martin has decided to sweep you into his arms and carry you away after all.”
Allison gasped, whirling around, and was shocked to see that Michael was indeed standing outside of the coffee shop, looking in through the glass front.
His expression was neutral, but his eyes were focused on her. Ingrate was at his feet, his tongue hanging out as he watched the people pass them on the sidewalk.
Allison turned back to her friends, her throat clenching in reaction. “Oh God,” she choked. “What do I do?”
Lori giggled. “Go talk to him, silly. Tell him how you feel.”
“But—”
“Don’t jump the gun,” Elizabeth put in. “But he’s seen that you’ve seen him. You might as well go find out what he wants. He did come all the way from New York just to talk to you.”
Allison’s hands were shaking as she slowly stood up. She was wearing jeans and a vintage velvet jacket over a fitted t-shirt. Not a bad outfit, but her hair was kind of messy and she hadn’t put on any make-up today.
“Oh, this is so exciting,” Lori gushed, beaming toward Michael.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Elizabeth muttered.
Her mind a whirl and her stomach decidedly fluttery, Allison left the coffee shop and walked out to the sidewalk where Michael was waiting.
He was dressed casually, in jeans and a black t-shirt. He didn’t smile as she approached, but his eyes searched her face with obvious interest.
Ingrate panted and pulled toward her until she knelt down and stroked his soft fur. “Hey, fella,” she murmured. “It’s good to see you again.” She looked up at Michael. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His mouth quirked up slightly, as if something struck him as humorous.
His expression made Allison smile too. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He licked his lips, and she suddenly wondered if he was a little uncomfortable with this meeting himself. “I was heading out to the Virginia coast. To check out that lighthouse.”
Absurdly, Allison felt a little disappointed that he hadn’t made the trip just to see her. “Oh, good. I’m glad you’re taking that seriously.”
Michael started walking, letting Ingrate lead the way. Allison fell in step with him.
After they’d gone half a block, Michael slanted her a sideways look. “You left without saying anything.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“Why did you?”
She shrugged. “It was rude, and I’m sorry I didn't say anything before I left.”
Michael nodded, his blue eyes scanning her face. After a minute, he said mildly, “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Caught that, did you? The truth is, Michael, I don’t know why I just left. I just—I don’t know.”
He nodded again, appearing to accept her vague rambles as the truth.
They were.
“Why are you here?” Allison asked, realizing suddenly how odd it was that he’d showed up in D.C. outside her favorite coffee shop without warning on a Saturday afternoon. “I mean, here.”
“I dropped by your apartment and you weren’t in. One of your neighbors said you liked the coffee shop so I walked over to check it out.”
“Oh.”
He hadn’t really answered her question—not the deepest one. So she forced herself to be
brave and prompted, “But why did you want to see me?”
Michael gave her a small smile. “I have a story you might be interested in.”
Allison blinked. It was the last thing she'd expected. “What?”
“I have a story, if you want it. Your article about the gala and demonstration was really good. I thought you might want to follow up. I’m heading out to see the lighthouse, as I mentioned earlier. You’re welcome to come.”
She felt like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. “What? You’re inviting me to— You hate reporters!”
“True. They haven’t been kind or considerate to me in the past. But you and I have…history. And this story isn’t about me. It’s about the lighthouse. Do you want it or not?”
Allison stared at him, baffled and overwhelmed. She had no idea what was happening here, but she knew one thing for sure.
She wasn’t about to say no.
“Yes, I want it,” she said, frowning at him. “There’s no need to be rude.”
Michael actually laughed, a low, throaty laugh that she found absolutely delicious. “All right then. I’m heading out there tomorrow morning.”
“Sounds good.”
She felt off-balanced and like she wasn’t thinking straight, but excitement pulsed through her, enlivening all of her nerve-endings. It was foolish to be so excited. As far as she knew, all of this meant absolutely nothing personal.
But it was certainly nothing she could have expected.
“I’m sorry,” she said, before she’d thought through the wisdom of the words. “For leaving like I did—the other night, I mean.”
Michael met her eyes with a strangely intense questioning.
“It was good,” she stammered on. “The sex, I mean. It was—I enjoyed it.” Her cheeks blazed as she cut off her words.
“Good,” Michael said quietly, looking ahead of him now as they walked. “Me too.”
* * *
Michael should have been prepared.
He’d done research. He’d talked to local authorities, historians, and architects all last week from New York. He’d seen pictures of the lighthouse both before and after the storm. He knew what to expect, and he should have been prepared.
He wasn’t.
The sight of the battered lighthouse hurt him, like a physical pain. It was a beautiful day, the warm sunshine tempered by the crisp breeze. But the perfect weather seemed to be taunting, mocking the devastation of the lighthouse that broke the landscape before him.
It stood, stark against the water and blue sky. A beaten relic of two centuries of wind, rain, and sand, pummeled by one storm too many.
“Oh God!” Allison breathed from beside him. “It hurts.”
Her hoarse voice and the words she spoke caused him to turn toward her. She’d lifted a hand to her chest, as though it were aching. Her fair skin glowed in the bright sun, and the breeze blew her burnished hair back from her face.
He recognized the ache in her eyes, though, and he knew she felt the way he did about the sight in front of them. “Yeah.”
They’d flown in that morning from D.C., and their interaction had been strictly business all day. Michael couldn’t help but wonder how Allison really felt about being there with him. She was acting no-nonsense and professional. She didn’t appear to be torn by the emotional confusion that Michael was suffering from. But he wondered.
He still wasn’t sure what he wanted out of this weekend, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Allison all week. Thoughts of her had tortured and pestered him until he’d known he had to do something. So he’d invited her on his trip to see the lighthouse with the offer of an inside story, hoping the time he spent with her this weekend would provide some sort of enlightenment.
When he’d woken up a week ago to find her empty side of the bed, it had felt like the jarring thud at the end of a fall. He’d been hurt, then annoyed, then pretended it didn’t matter. He couldn’t be genuinely angry with her for leaving without a word. They’d never pretended it was serious between them, that it was anything but sex.
But holding her in his arms, being buried inside her, meeting her eyes as their bodies moved together…it hadn’t been casual.
And Michael was somehow sure she’d realized it too.
He knew he hadn’t treated her well, so it was possible she was just running away, but he wasn’t about to leave a massive loose end like this in his life. He needed closure. He needed answers. And he was determined to get them this weekend.
Michael wasn’t naïve enough to believe there was no possibility of Allison’s still trying to use or deceive him—or that, at least, her motives here were self-seeking, merely to advance her career. She was a reporter. She'd always been ambitious. And Michael had never seen anything in his life to convince him that journalism was a noble profession.
Maybe Allison was with him now to get the kind of inside story on Michael Martin no other reporter ever had.
But, if that were the case, he’d know after this weekend. At least, he’d have that answer.
In truth, he was starting to doubt it was so.
Mostly, Michael wanted to figure out why he couldn’t seem to let go of Allison the way he’d let go of every other woman in his life.
“You have to save it.”
Michael looked over at her again. She'd still been staring out at the lighthouse, but now she turned her head to meet his gaze.
“Please,” she added.
The plea in her eyes spoke to him, and the connection he felt with her at the moment was so deep and tangible it astounded him.
So he gave her the only answer he was capable of shaping. “I will.”
Her face changed. She smiled. It was so bright, so breathtaking, that her whole being seemed to glow in the sun.
Moved beyond restraint, Michael reached out and took her face in his hands. He sank into a kiss, knowing only that he had to be closer to her, as close as he could get.
The embrace was immediately deep and urgent. Michael’s chest clenched and then eased as Allison softened against him without hesitation, her mouth opening to the advance of his tongue and her arms twining eagerly around his neck.
With her lush shape pressed firmly against him, Michael’s head spun and his body came alive. He moaned deep in his throat at the sound of her hum of pleasure.
Then suddenly Allison jerked away. She stumbled a few steps back and blinked up at him, her face flushed and her eyes disoriented.
Gasping and jarred painfully from his passionate momentum, Michael tried to shake himself back to sense.
“Sorry. But we shouldn’t—I’m here for the story,” Allison said, her words rather stilted as she visibly tried to catch her breath.
Michael opened his mouth to object.
But Allison mumbled, “Sorry,” again and then turned to hurry back toward the car and driver waiting for them.
Michael didn’t move. He was still half-drowning in the interrupted kiss, and he wasn’t in a fit state to chase her down. He stared out at the lighthouse, willing his body and mind back under control.
After a minute, he turned to look back at Allison’s retreating figure.
He felt like he had when he’d woken up a week ago to find himself alone in bed after an intense night of lovemaking, after holding her in his arms as they slept. Like something had been wrenched away from him, something he’d almost possessed.
Michael watched Allison walk back to the car, his eyes lingering on her proud, straight back, her curved hips, her shiny hair.
He wanted her. Wanted her.
And there was no sense in denying it anymore.
* * *
“Would you like some coffee, miss?”
Allison wasn’t about to say no to that offer after being out in the brisk wind all afternoon, so she said, “Yes, thank you,” to the gray-haired, comfortable-looking woman who was evidently acting as housekeeper of Michael’s Virginia beach house. After going to see the lighthouse and then talking t
o officials of many varieties, Allison and Michael had been driven down to his beach house for dinner before they flew back to D.C.
Allison had been doing her best to hide her nerves and confusion all day—especially since the kiss just before noon—but she wasn’t sure she’d done a very good job. She was afraid she’d been rather cool and standoffish, which wasn’t at all what she wanted.
She just wanted things to be normal and relaxed between her and Michael, and she wasn’t sure it was possible.
It had been crazy to come here at all. She and Michael had never really been friends, but they weren’t merely professional acquaintances either. She didn’t know what they were to each other, but it was too tense and complicated for their interaction to be natural.
She kept reminding herself about the way he’d treated her after he discovered she was a reporter. The way he’d forgotten her existence after she’d given him her virginity. It didn’t matter that he seemed a little on edge too, that he kept slanting her covert looks of an almost hopeful scrutiny.
She’d fallen for that before, and she’d been crushed. There had to be a limit to the way she let herself be emotionally trampled on.
Michael lived his life from behind his emotional defenses, and he wasn’t going to lower them for her.
She accepted the coffee gratefully from the woman who introduced herself as Nora. They were in the kitchen of Michael’s plush beach house, and Allison liked the homey feel of it with flowers on the butcher block table and a bowl of fresh fruit on the counter. Michael had gone back to the study to make some calls, saying he’d be out in fifteen or twenty minutes.
Allison had told him to take his time. Frankly, she was relieved for a little time to let out her breath and relax.
“He works too hard,” Nora said, as she bustled around the kitchen preparing a dinner of what appeared to be scallops, rice, and vegetables.
Storm Front (Reunited Hearts) Page 12