by Jade Kerrion
“Not a bad idea.” He smirked at her, but moments later, he reached for her hand. “Can we just hush for a moment?” Their fingers entwined, the pulse in their wrists beating against each other. His eyelashes fluttered and closed.
What was he doing? Marie stared at him, and then, with her eyes set in a skeptical squint, followed his lead. For a moment, the only thing she could hear was the rapid pounding of her heart, but in time, other sounds emerged—most especially that of the quiet, steady breathing of the man beside her.
Her heartbeat steadied and slowed to match the pulse tapping against her wrist. The questions pounding through her mind did not go away, but the anxious edge melted. Tension seeped out of her shoulders and her neck as she relaxed into a faint smile. Time passed—a few minutes, perhaps longer. It didn’t matter. The feeling of utter peace was unbelievable. She had never felt as connected to Phil.
When Phil finally broke the silence, his voice seemed to drift toward her from a faraway place. “I left because I love you.”
The stamp of truth in his voice broke her heart.
Marie drew a deep, unsteady breath, the air expanding her lungs. She whispered, “I know.” There was nothing more to say then, was there? The ache in her chest demanded otherwise. “Love is supposed to bring people together, not tear them apart.”
“Love doesn’t make all the problems go away.” He didn’t sound angry, but tired, as if worn out by constantly battling his demons. “I’m making the life here that I’ve always wanted, and I want you to be happy, too.”
“And you think I can find happiness without you?”
“Can’t you?” He cracked open an eyelid and looked at her. His grin was teasing, and for a brief, tantalizing moment, she got a glimpse of the Phil she had first fallen in love with. “You’re gorgeous, Marie. You give from the heart, and you inspire people to want to be their best for you. And you’re pretty too.”
She tried to match his grin. “And I’m probably even good enough for you.”
His smile faded. “Too good. I’m not at my best—you know it. I may never get there.” Phil shook his head. “I have good days and bad days, and before you say anything—” He held a finger to her lips before she could point out how much progress he had made. “Today was an excellent day, but not every day will be excellent, and I can’t risk having another bad day. Not with you.”
“Because you love me too much?” Her voice cracked.
He nodded.
Marie wrinkled her nose, and for emphasis, wriggled it too. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”
“I missed that.”
“What?”
“The thing you do with your nose.” Phil drew a deep breath and shrugged away the breath of nostalgia. “You wanted to talk. That’s all I have to say.”
“Okay.”
He stared at her, his eyebrows arching into a perplexed curve. “Okay?”
Obviously, he knew her well enough to know that any easy concession on her part was fake. How often had he compared her to a tiny but tenacious terrier, incapable of admitting defeat, even when confronted with an unspeakably large problem?
The largest problem was right in front of her.
Phil was right. He couldn’t risk having another bad day with her. They had both, luckily, survived his worst day, but no one could survive on luck alone.
Yet, she was right too. Love brought people together. It didn’t tear them apart.
So, who was more right?
Me, of course.
Marie relaxed against him, deliberately curling against the side of his body. Phil stiffened, but a moment later, his arm encircled her waist in an embrace that drew her close and kept her safe.
He loves me so much, she mused. How can we not possibly work this out? Her fingers tapped a steady beat against his heart.
He grabbed her hand. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” she asked innocently, raising her head to stare at him.
“I know what you’re doing. We’re not married anymore.”
“Oh?” Marie arched an eyebrow. “And you’ve always waited until you were married to have sex?”
Phil had the grace to look embarrassed.
Marie smiled at him. “It’s just the story of our life, isn’t it? You were the big, strong soldier—too noble to start an affair with your best buddy’s younger sister. I had to seduce you before you would confess that you were in love with me, but you were always my hero—like the time when my car stalled out in the middle-of-nowhere—”
“Long Island.”
“And you came by completely unexpectedly and saved me. I think it was the first time I really noticed you. Since then there’s been no one else for me.”
His eyes took on a faraway expression. Was he, like her, remembering a simpler time? Her heart swelled until it ached. How could she not return the love of a man who had been prepared to love her from afar? How could she not keep loving a man who, in his ridiculous male-logic way, had left her to keep her safe?
He had changed, for the better, despite his statement that there were good and bad days. She…they…had survived the worst day. Everything from here on out had to—by definition—be better.
Of course, she voiced none of her thoughts. She already knew what Phil thought of her—she wasn’t just the eternal optimist; she was the quintessential, stubborn, eternal optimist. She wasn’t going to play into his hands or give him a chance to use his male-logic against her, not until she had him back.
Phil sucked in a deep breath when her fingers tugged at his belt and unzipped his pants. He was already rock hard, Marie wrapped her fingers around his shaft, stroking him, and had the pleasure of seeing his hands curl into fists.
An insidious little voice reminded her that Phil had had other women. A hard kernel of hurt lodged in her chest at the woman who had so brazenly walked out of his cottage yesterday, bringing him food. And she was pretty.
It would have been too petty to admit it, even in the silence and privacy of her thoughts, but when Marie took Phil into her warm mouth, it was as much out of desire for Phil as it was to prove to him—to the both of them—that she was better.
Her competitive spirit, however, only lasted for a second, before the scent of his body, the rich male musk, filled her senses. The other woman vanished from Marie’s thoughts. Her world zeroed in on him—the only man she had ever loved—and damn it if she wasn’t going to make him beg for her. She slid her lips along his length, drawing him in deep, tormenting him with quick flicks of her tongue and a hum from the back of her throat.
He sucked in his breath sharply, the heaves of his chest giving way to a low, strangled cry. Pleasure glazed his eyes, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He gripped her shoulders, trying to hold her back, but she had the reins, and like hell, she was never going to allow him to send her away again.
Marie had to squeeze her eyes shut to hold back the tears. I’m not leaving. Not ever. She gave him a few seconds of breathing room as she tugged her sundress over her shoulders and stepped out of her bikini panties. The sea breeze stiffened her nipples that were already hard from desire, but she did not move toward him. I am here. Take me. Tell me you want me.
Phil swallowed hard. His fingers dug into the sand. If he could have clamped them across his mouth, he probably would have. He fought himself harder than he fought her; he had always been his own worst enemy.
And he had always been strong-willed, almost as stubborn as her—only he was the pessimist, the perfect foil for her optimism.
For the first time, in spite of the sun’s embrace, doubt chilled her.
Phil’s heart thudded. Marie looked like a goddess, her skin kissed by the sun, the long locks of her hair gleaming in shades of brass, copper, and gold. She was as curvy as he remembered in his dreams, but her waist was narrower from the weight she had lost.
My fault, he reminded himself. Own up. Say no. You’re bad for her.
Bad for her.
He knew when he hurt her. Uncertainty crept into her eyes, a prelude to a shrinking in upon herself. In an instant, she seemed smaller and vulnerable—no longer the bold woman who had seduced him outdoors and, with her clever mouth and wicked fingers, driven him right to the edge.
His body still wanted her. He had not been this hard in a long time. If he touched himself, he would come in an instant like a schoolboy jerking off to a pinup, but it would be too crass, too weak.
Marie didn’t deserve it.
Shadows inched over Marie’s uncertainty, like clouds over the sun.
Phil yanked in his breath. The sadness shading her eyes—he had seen it, all too often, when she had stood in front of him, watching him struggle against the living nightmares in his head. “Let me help, please,” she had pleaded.
He had pushed her away then, again and again, throwing curses and eventually fists at her before driving her away. That look in her eyes before she fled—it wasn’t hurt or pain or even fear.
It was sadness—shattering sadness—and it fragmented her expressive eyes right now.
Phil swallowed a curse. Don’t weaken. Don’t cave in. Bad for her. But damn, he needed…wanted her. He wanted to feel like the hero he was every time she looked at him. His fingers trembled, and he curled them into fists to conceal his turmoil. Marie’s gaze, however, flicked to his hands. They were not trembling from nerve damage—at least not in that moment, but perhaps it was better if she believed it.
God knew he wasn’t having any luck convincing her of how imperfect he was. The truth, as they both should have known it, whispered from his lips. “I’m not the man I was.”
“No, and you’re getting better.”
I’m still not good enough for you.
She stepped toward him. “I’ll leave only if you tell me you don’t love me anymore.”
He couldn’t utter that lie, not when it was the only truth left in his life. Phil’s brow furrowed. Somehow, he had to make her understand. “You know I love you. It’s why I left.”
“Love conquers all.”
No, it doesn’t.
But she was on him again, all warm skin and silky hair. The jasmine scent that always lingered about her filled his nostrils and surged into his head, obliterating all thoughts along the way. He tugged his T-shirt over his head and flung it aside, before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her down to him.
Every part of him was focused on the strong, beautiful woman in his arms, and on giving her every ounce of pleasure he could wring from her body, but a quiet voice, locked in his heart, damned him to hell for dragging her back down into his personal hell.
The sun was setting when Marie skipped over the sand leading up to the cottage. She was fumbling with the key in the lock when a loud and amused, “ahem” came from behind her.
Guiltily, she spun around. Heat rushed into her face.
Rio burst into laughter. “I’d tell you that you look like a beautiful mess, but I think you already know that.”
Marie grinned sheepishly.
“There’s sand in your hair,” Rio said as he stepped up to her. “And I suspect in lots of other places.”
“It gets everywhere,” she said, combing her fingers through her hair.
“Did you have a good talk with him?”
“Among other things?” Marie sighed. “No, not really. He doesn’t want to talk about it, and we were a bit preoccupied with other things.”
“Of course.” Rio wore a grin, but it was so easy and natural that Marie knew herself to be in the presence of a friend—one who supported her and Phil. Surprising how quickly he had found that niche, but then again, his peacemaking and matchmaking attempt had been blatantly obvious.
“I was wondering…” Marie hesitated. “Do you know who Phil’s talking to about his PTSD and his anger management issues?”
“There aren’t too many psychiatrists in Key West. Phil asked me the same question when he first arrived here eight months ago.”
“He did?”
“Seemed like it was a priority to him.”
Marie bit down on her lower lip. It had mattered to Phil. Fixing himself had mattered to him. Her chest ached with pride for him. Her heart swelled with love. Phil was trying to make things right for himself, and as a result, for her too. “So, did you give him a list?”
“Yes. In fact, I know which one he goes to.”
“Will you take me there tomorrow?”
“I’d be surprised if Dr. Biles tells you anything. Client confidentiality.”
“I’m not interested in knowing about Phil. Well…” Marie noted Rio’s skeptical expression. “What I really want is to know how I can change along with Phil. He’s trying, which is what I always hoped for. The least I can do is try alongside him.” She hugged herself, relief and love swelling like a wave approaching the shore. “It’s a sign. Today was a sign. We’re going to make it. I just know it.”
Phil pushed open the door of his cottage and stepped into a darkened room. He stiffened and squinted at the outline of the person in the chair across the hall. “Lucy? What are you doing sitting here in the dark?”
The light flared on, and he blinked hard against the glare in his eyes. “What the—?”
“At least you had the good sense to come home alone.” Lucy’s voice was low and venomous.
“What are you talking about?”
“Where were you?”
He flung his keys down on the side table. “Out. What’s it to you?”
“I thought we were going to spend the day together.”
Phil frowned. “You know I always have lunch on Sundays with Rio.”
“But you weren’t with Rio. He was in his cottage all afternoon, typing away at his computer.”
“You were spying on him?”
“I was trying to find you. What’s going on?” She rose and walked toward him, her eyes narrowed with worry. “It’s that woman, isn’t it? Your ex-wife.”
“Her name is Marie.”
“You were with her?”
Phil hurled the words out like a challenge. “And if I were?”
Lucy’s mouth dropped open. “You were with her? How could you? Why?”
“What do you mean why? I went out for lunch with Rio, and she was with him.”
Lucy stalked forward until she pressed up against him. She inhaled deeply, and her eyes flared wide. “You weren’t just with her. You were with her. How could you? We’re together.”
“What?” Phil stared at her. “We never—”
“We’re sleeping together. I welcomed you to the island when you arrived. I’ve been with you the whole time. We’re practically living together.”
“I told you I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I’ve said so from the start.”
“But I thought you were changing your mind. I mean you let me stay the night—”
“Because you said it was safer here than at the front desk, and that you could still answer the phones from here.”
“But I thought you cared…”
“I do. I care about your safety.”
“No. For me. I thought you cared…” Lucy’s voice broke. “I thought you loved me.”
Phil looked aghast. “I never said— Look, we’ve slept together many times, but I told you months ago I wasn’t ready for a relationship, and I’m still not. Maybe you thought it was supposed to be something more, but it wasn’t.”
Lucy’s eyes blazed. “So you were using me?”
“Using you?” Phil’s hand curled into a fist. “I was minding my own business. You came on to me.”
“You didn’t say no.”
He sneered. “You didn’t want me to. Besides, I was unattached. I am still unattached. I haven’t broken any laws.”
“You screwed me when you didn’t love me.”
“I have never loved you.”
She flung her hand out, but he caught it before she hit his face. His grip was right around her wrist, mostly to keep himself from striking back out
at her. “Don’t you dare,” he growled at her. “I’ve been honest with you. I told you it was just sex, and you agreed. Don’t make it now to be something it wasn’t supposed to be.”
“Do you think any woman would put up with you just for sex?” She flicked her free hand in his face, the motion crudely dismissive.
“What do you mean?”
“All the times you stalk off to sulk?”
Instead of risk hitting you.
“How you can’t even hold a glass without dropping it?”
The tremors.
“How you scream and cry and whimper in your dreams?”
My nightmares. The ones I lived through.
Hurting, bleeding on the inside, Phil glared at her. “You better leave. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you with all my imperfections.” He released her wrist and shoved her away.
Lucy wrung her fingers together. “I gave you everything!”
“And I gave you everything I could,” he shot back.
“It’s not enough.”
“It’s all I’ve got for you.”
Lucy’s face twisted with pain. “It’s that damned woman, isn’t it? Your ex-wife? She’s still got her claws in you.”
“This isn’t about Marie.”
“Of course it’s about Marie,” Lucy hissed. “We were fine until she came back into the picture.”
Phil scowled. “We were never a couple. Now, get the hell out of here. Don’t come back.”
Lucy gaped at him. “You don’t mean it.”
What the heck? Hadn’t he just said it? What was it with women—Marie included—and their damned refusal to listen to what he was saying? Why did they only hear what they wanted to hear?
His hands curled into fists, and he strode toward her. “I said get out!”
Lucy flinched even though he had not struck her. For the first time, terror seared her eyes. Did she finally realize—in a way that Marie never quite did—the danger she was in? Her upper lip curled into a sneer. “You’re crazy. And you’re an ugly man.” She tapped his heart.
Ugly inside. Where it matters most.
Lucy lifted her chin. “When she leaves you again, you’re going to come crawling back to me. And I’m going to make sure you come back on your hands and knees, over glass.”