Somehow just thinking about it had left him feeling a little tired and strangely alone and empty. She’d opened his eyes, made him think about the way he was living his life, and he found he wasn’t comfortable with what he saw.
“Go ahead, Josh,” she said. “Explain it to me.”
“I don’t think I could,” he said carefully.
Because Josh wasn’t the same man anymore. She’d changed him in some elemental way, maybe from that first kiss. He was still fumbling around and trying to fully understand it all, and obviously, there was no way he could explain it to her when he didn’t even understand it himself yet. It was something about who she was, something tied up in the reason he couldn’t quite forget about her after that one kiss, couldn’t stop wanting her.
“We can analyze me another time, okay? Let’s talk about you. Let it go, Amanda,” he said. “All of it. Not just me and one little kiss. Everything with you and Rob. Everything with Tanner. You haven’t done anything wrong. Nothing that happened was your fault.”
“No?” she said bitterly. “Do you think Rob came after me by accident? Because he had any genuine feelings for me? He came after me because of who I was. Because I was Tanner’s secretary. And I never suspected a thing.”
“No one did. Not for a long, long time.”
“You did,” she said. “You stopped them both. You and Dan and the others.”
“Not until it was nearly too late,” he said bitterly. “Believe me, I have as many regrets about that as you do. But it wasn’t your fault.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t possibly know.”
“I know what I see with my own two eyes. As blind as you think I am to anyone else’s wants or needs, there are times when I notice what’s going on around me.” Particularly when it came to her. “All you did was trust the wrong man. Don’t beat yourself up for trusting him, Amanda. Or for loving him.”
God, he hoped she didn’t still love him.
“You’re one of the kindest women I know,” he said. “Loyal. Trusting. Generous to a fault.”
“Naïve,” she added. “Stupidly naïve. Criminally naïve.”
“There’s no criminal statue for naïveté,” he pointed out.
“Maybe there should be.”
“You couldn’t have stopped this,” he insisted. “You were an innocent bystander, and you’re going to put this behind you.”
“I’m trying, Josh. I’m trying my best, I swear.” Her composure started to crumble. There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, a trembling of her lips, a bewildered look on her face. “I just don’t know how to do it.”
“I do,” he insisted. “I can help you, Amanda. Let me help.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to. Because I’m concerned about you. Isn’t that enough?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, not even looking at him any longer.
Josh had a sinking feeling that he might not have done her any good bringing her here. He simply didn’t have the words to make anything better.
Frowning, he got to his feet, put out a hand to pull her up, as well. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”
They walked side by side, not touching, not speaking. The sand was soft, the wind cool and insistent, the tangy smell of the sea in the air. Birds were gliding across the surface of the water, diving into it at times, making all sorts of noises. But it was peaceful. He always felt the stress drain away, if not on the drive here, on the walks he sometimes took or in the sight of the rising sun.
Watching it climb into the sky, in this place where he could hear the wind, could feel it, could see for what looked like forever, had always given him the sensation that he could start over, wipe the slate clean with each new day. It was like being born again, everything made new, all things possible.
They paused, looking at streaks of golden light that seemed to radiate from the horizon line, growing more intense until the glow was nearly blinding. Moments later the sun appeared, rising like a ball of fire from the water.
“It is beautiful here,” she said finally.
He nodded. This was what he’d wanted her to see, the magic he hoped she’d find.
“It’s a whole new day. You can make it anything you want, Amanda. You can start all over again.”
He didn’t reach for her, though he wanted to badly. He waited. Maybe he was getting better at this waiting stuff. He waited until she leaned into his side and bent her head down low, until he felt her start to shake and knew she couldn’t hold back her tears any longer. Then he took her within the circle of his arms and held her while she sobbed and shivered and hung on to him for dear life. Just as before, she felt like a puff of air in his arms, as fragile and elusive as a fairy. He worried he’d hurt her by holding her so tightly and felt totally inadequate when it came to easing her pain.
Normally, he charmed women, flattered them, made love to them, to expensive, moneyed, sophisticated women. Amanda was none of those things. She was sweet and innocent and lost, and he found himself in the ridiculous position of wanting her when her heart was breaking and she had no reason to trust any man, least of all him.
She pulled away from him to look up at him with sad, damp eyes, her lashes spiked together by tears, and soft trembling lips, and he wanted to devour her whole, right there on the spot. But he wanted something else, too. He wanted to make everything all better for her. Wanted to shield her, to protect her. To stand between her and the rest of the world, wanted the right to do that for her. He wanted her to like him, maybe even to respect him. To see that the image he presented to the world wasn’t all there was to him.
Looking embarrassed and self-conscious, she dried her cheeks and tucked her hair behind her ears. He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped up what was left of her tears. “Better?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. You needed it.”
“I guess I did. One last time.” She sighed. “Every time I do this, I promise myself it’s the last time.”
“Hey, it was a bad day.”
Amanda nodded once more, her breathing slowing. She offered him a watery smile, then stifled a yawn.
“Come on. You’re exhausted.” Josh put an arm around her shoulders and turned her back toward the car. “Time to get you home.”
They packed their things, loaded up the car. Josh helped her recline her seat, then tucked a blanket around her. Five minutes later she was sleeping quietly beside him.
She woke on the outskirts of D.C. as the sun was beginning to get uncomfortably warm and asked if he’d mind stopping for some coffee. Josh pulled into the parking lot of a little coffee shop not far from his town house.
“I wanted to thank you,” she said as he stopped the car. “For everything. And I’m sorry I fell apart that way.”
He made it out to be nothing at all, when in truth it meant a great deal to him. How the hell did he tell her that? How did he make her understand? He wasn’t fooling around here. She was important to him. Lately everything in his life seemed to be about her.
With a little groan Josh closed his eyes and leaned toward her. He let himself brush his lips against her forehead in what had to be the most chaste and most frustrating kiss he’d ever given any woman, and even that left her decidedly uneasy. He was moving too fast. With another groan, Josh pulled away. He didn’t even look at her as he made one last plea.
“We could be friends, Amanda. You could call me, just to have someone to talk to. We could just drive and drive and drive. Whatever it takes. Whatever helps.”
“Josh…” He risked a glance toward her, already knowing what she was going to say, how she would look. All sad and lost again, maybe a little bit afraid. Why did he have to make her so afraid? “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Josh nodded, expecting that. All he wanted was a chance with her. They’d never really had a chance together. It was an uncomfortable feeling—thinking he might not be able to charm her into seeing things his way.
That she might know him too well. That years of meaningless pleasure and indulging himself with women who, in the end, hadn’t meant a thing to him might ruin any chance he had with her.
“Come on,” he said to her, telling himself to get out of the damned car before he made it any worse. “Let’s get some coffee and I’ll take you home.”
Chapter 2
Amanda was a little sleepy and way too relaxed when he made his move. His beautiful blue eyes closed. Minty aftershave filled her nostrils. A blast of heat radiated from his magnificent body as his warm, sensual mouth brushed the skin at her left temple. She braced herself as best she could, steeling herself for so much more, then somehow got lost in the feel of his mouth against her forehead. The touch was warm and soft, teasing, brief and somehow sexy as well. Only Josh, she thought, could kiss a woman’s forehead and have her practically swooning.
He pulled away. She could breathe again. Almost. And when she opened her eyes, he was looking at her in that oddly unsettling way that always left her feeling uneasy and a little excited, a little scared.
Joshua Carter scared her to death.
Most men scared her to death right now. But especially him.
“We could be friends, Amanda,” he said. “You could call me, just to have someone to talk to. We could just drive and drive and drive. Whatever it takes. Whatever helps.”
He wanted to be her friend? She shook her head back and forth. “Josh…”
He looked at her once more, a little zing of awareness shooting right through her, reminding her of all the reasons why he didn’t mean that part about being friends. Or maybe he did, in his own way. Josh slept with his women friends; she was certain of that. And she wasn’t going to sleep with him. She wasn’t letting herself near any man.
Maybe in the next decade, she decided. Surely she would have wised up by then.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she told him, hating that wimpy, breathless quality to her voice, the one that practically screamed pushover! Hating that part of her that wanted to cry and cling to him and feel sorry for herself for just a little bit longer. The part that wanted to let him be with her to keep her from feeling so absolutely and totally alone. Even knowing what he was, she was tempted to let him into her life, let him take charge for just a little while and take care of her.
Her entire life was in a shambles, and she couldn’t quite figure out what to do about it. But she still had enough sense of self-preservation not to fall into his arms, at least not any more than she already had.
He sat there for a minute, looking much too intent and serious. But for once he didn’t push. He came around to her side of the car, taking her hand and helping her out, as if they were pulling into the most elegant restaurant in town on a Saturday night and not a little coffee shop at seven o’clock in the morning with sand on their shoes and her hair a windblown mess. She took a deep, hopefully calming breath and tried to ignore the reality of her life at the moment. Her fiancé was dead, and before he died he’d betrayed her and everyone around her. Her boss was just as bad, and she’d trusted them both.
Stupid little Amanda, she thought. Naïve, trusting, gullible, foolish Amanda.
She hated that image of herself, hated it all the more because it was true. And she hated even letting Joshua Carter inside her house last night and taking off with him in this ridiculously expensive car of his and crying all over his impossibly broad shoulders before the night was done. She hated him seeing her for what she was—a sad, stupidly trusting woman grieving not so much for a man she’d lost but over the fact that he’d been so evil and made such an absolute fool of her.
And she absolutely hated the fact that once, a long time ago, Josh had kissed her and she’d liked it, a lot, even though she’d been engaged to another man at the time. She especially hated that even now, when she should have been so much stronger, so much smarter, so absolutely immune to any man’s charms, that with every step they took, she was conscious of Josh’s hand at the small of her back, in what could only be described as a light, ever-so-proper touch.
Of course, Josh managed to make it feel decidedly improper. Women positively hummed around him, glowed even. They nearly staggered under the potent spell of his considerable charms.
And he wanted to be her friend?
Amanda groaned.
“What?” he said, as he reached in front of her to get the door.
“Nothing,” she insisted, closing her eyes.
She couldn’t take much more of his I-want-to-be-your-friend routine. Much as she desperately needed a friend, it couldn’t be him.
If only she didn’t find him so utterly gorgeous. It took her breath away, just to look at him. He was big and tall and very blond, his skin a permanent golden hue, and he just glowed. There was no other word for it. His features were absolute perfection; the bluest eyes, the darkest, most extravagant lashes and so very, very soft lips that were almost always stretched into a charming smile.
He was the fairy-tale prince, all golden and magical and absolutely out of reach to a woman like her. He was rich and very sophisticated and a beautiful dresser, and he made her feel as plain as she likely was. He made her feel like a too-innocent, too trustworthy, criminally naïve secretary from Kansas.
One who didn’t believe in fairy tales at all anymore. Not after the last year of her life.
That should be the end of any ridiculous thoughts she might have about Joshua Carter.
They walked into the coffee shop. Amanda frowned, fatigue striking anew when she saw the vast array of choices available. She didn’t want to have to choose, didn’t want to think.
“Something wrong?” Josh, the ever-solicitous escort, asked.
“Why did coffee turn so complicated?” she said. “I just want caffeine. Enormous amounts of caffeine.”
“Allow me,” he said smoothly.
Amanda suspected most women allowed him anything, everything. He was a man used to getting what he wanted, and she knew the only reason he was interested in her was because for the most part, so far, she’d managed to resist him. Now she wished he would just go away and leave her to her misery and self-contempt.
Instead he gave her a staggering smile and a steaming jolt of caffeine. She sighed with sheer bliss at the first taste. When she glanced back at him, she found him staring again. At her mouth.
Did he ever turn it off? Or at least hit the dimmer switch?
“What?” she asked, fatigue, annoyance at herself and him creeping into her voice as he continued to stare.
He pointed with one long, elegant finger, at her upper lip. She swept the tip of her tongue past it, tasting sweet, silky remnants from her espresso. “Did I get it?”
He groaned and looked away.
“Josh?”
“You don’t have any idea what you’re doing to me, do you?”
She blinked up at him, noting the odd little catch in his smooth-as-silk voice, the way his mouth stretched into that tight line and the blast of heat in his eyes.
“I don’t—” she began, as he groaned and reached for her.
“There’s no way a woman in this day and age could be this innocent,” he complained. “No damn way.”
It sounded like a complaint. But his hands were gentle, his hold loose, his body blocking out the sight of everything else as his mouth once again came down to hers.
He wasn’t going after her forehead this time, either, she realized, too late and too surprised to pull away. She made a mad gasp for air, felt his breath against her lips, smelled that wonderful scent he wore once again. This time his mouth settled against the corner of hers, against her upper lip, drawing it briefly and ever so gently into the cradle of his own lips. She didn’t know lips could be so exquisitely soft, so gentle. She felt his tongue brush against her mouth, against the skin at the top of her mouth.
Froth, she thought, sheer giddiness creeping in. He tasted like froth. Like sweet, barely there bubbles of air and flavor. Having him touch her
was like taking a monstrous hit of caffeine.
“Josh,” she said, all breathless and helpless-sounding again, sternly reminding herself that he was like those little bubbles of froth, that the things he made her feel and believe were like that, too. It might seem like something, like it had a texture and a substance and a color. But touch it—reach out and try to grab it—and it simply disappeared into thin air. It was sheer nothing, and there was nothing to this silly game of Josh’s, either.
Amanda watched warily as he backed away. He swore softly, his hands falling to his side, his shoulders rising and falling with every breath he took. He looked like a man who’d just run a marathon, she decided, except every perfect hair on his head was still in place. How did he manage that?
“What am I going to do with you?” he said, shaking his head, a bare hint of a smile on his handsome face.
“Nothing,” she answered for him, surprise and amusement and sheer sexual bliss fading away. “Don’t do anything with me, Josh. Please, don’t.”
Amanda was serious. At least, she told herself she was. She couldn’t let herself get anywhere near him again.
“Last night…” she said. “I appreciate what you were trying to do. Honestly, I do. And it helped, Josh. I’m glad I wasn’t alone. But let this be the end of it.”
He backed up a step, his frown intensifying, and then he reached for her again. Amanda backed up herself that time, determined to be smarter, stronger.
“Please,” she said.
He sighed. “All right. I’m sorry.”
“I…uh. I need a minute, okay?”
Josh nodded grimly.
Amanda glanced around, spotted the ladies’ room and fled.
At the sound of laughter behind him, Josh dragging his eyes away from the sight of the fleeing woman. He blinked, surprised to find himself in the middle of a quite ordinary coffee shop in Georgetown at an ungodly hour on a Saturday morning.
Yes, that’s where he was. Kissing Amanda. Absolutely lost in Amanda and her all-too-innocent look. He could have been on top the Eiffel Tower or in the middle of a war zone for all he knew. He’d been that lost in her.
Cinderella and the Spy Page 3