The Thrill of Temptation (The Fontaines Book 4)

by Ember Casey

  Those gold eyes are still much darker than usual, heated from the inside out. But there’s an odd look in them now.

  As usual, I feel the urge to fill up the silence.

  “You see?” I tease. “I need you more than you need me.” I lean over and gather up my clothes so I don’t have to look at him. I can’t find my thong, but the bra and dress will have to do. “You claim that I’m the best part of your day. But you… You’re the best part of my year. Maybe my life. And I know that sounds like an exaggeration, but things were pretty boring for me before you showed up. I know we’ve only known each other a few weeks, but…there it is.” I stumble to my feet and quickly pull on my bra, still refusing to look at him.

  After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks. “I had no idea, Maggie.”

  I knew when he took so long to reply that his answer wouldn’t be what I wanted, but his words still sting.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell him, pulling my dress over my head. “I knew you didn’t feel the same way. You won’t even talk to me about your father.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “It has everything to do with it. You won’t talk to me about anything real.”

  “I talk to you about plenty of things,” he insists. “Fuck, Maggie, we’ve spent hours talking.”

  “About superficial things. Not feelings. Not the things that really matter.” I hurriedly pull my dress up my body, wanting to feel less bare. “Remember that night you drove me home? After the whole Ford thing?”

  “I remember.”

  “I told you about my dad, and you told me about yours. And that was the first time I felt more than just a physical connection to you. That was the first time I thought we might really understand each other.” I look up at him. “And yes, we’ve had lots of fun talking about Shakespeare and other things. But any time I ask you about your father, you change the subject. Or undress me.” I try to do up my zipper, but I’m too upset and can’t seem to reach it.

  “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to spend every waking minute thinking about my father?” he says in an oddly calm voice. “That maybe, when I’m with you, I just want to be happy?”

  “What you want is a distraction. Someone to take your mind off of work and family issues and any of your other problems.” I try in vain to reach my zipper again, then give up in frustration.

  “Again, I don’t see what the problem is.” His eyes are unrelenting. “You make me happy. When we’re together, you make me forget about everything else. I can just be myself. How is that a bad thing?”

  “Because it’s only half of who you are.” My gaze searches his, begging him to understand. “I don’t want only half of you, Orlando. And I don’t want to simply be your distraction. That makes me no different than any of the other women you’ve used as an escape.”

  “You’re different, Maggie. You know you are.”

  “No, I don’t,” I tell him honestly. How can I? The questions and fears that have been torturing me these past couple of weeks come rushing to the surface. I knew from the beginning that there was only one argument for why someone like him might want someone like me, and this conversation has given me little reason to believe otherwise. “Why? Because you’ve taken me out on one date? Because you’ve told me I make you laugh?”

  “It’s more than that.” He runs a hand through his hair, finally looking distressed. “You know I’m not good with words, Maggie.”

  The only words I want him to say aren’t going to come. And that knowledge is tearing me apart from the inside out.

  “You know what?” I say. “I think you’re afraid. I think you’re too scared to take a chance on this, to open yourself up to another person, the same way you’re too scared to write another one of your own films.”

  “Me? Scared?” His golden eyes have cooled. For the first time since I’ve known him, they’re as cold as ice, and a chill vibrates down my back. “Okay, let’s talk about being scared, Maggie. Let’s talk about how you’ve spent the last year too afraid to start your own life. You claim your life was boring before me, but whose choice was that? You could have gone out and done whatever you wanted. You’re bright, you’re talented, you’re resilient…and yet you’ve done nothing with that. Why? What are you afraid of?”

  His words sting. I fight back the tears that have rushed to my eyes.

  “This isn’t about me,” I snap. “And maybe I was afraid before, but I’m not now. I had no idea what I was going to face when I walked onto your set, but I did it anyway. And I returned there day after day, even after I humiliated myself in front of you multiple times, even after Ford attacked me. When you called and asked me to come to California, I dropped everything and followed you. I had no idea what would happen, but I was willing to face that uncertainty. Because I was willing to let go of that fear.” I step closer to him, meeting those cold eyes. “I refuse to be afraid of life anymore. And I refuse to be afraid of love.” I also refuse to stand here and let myself be held over hot coals. I told him how I feel, and he clearly doesn’t feel the same way.

  I stride over to the door and unlock it, then hurry out into the restaurant. My dress is still partway unzipped, but I can’t bring myself to care. I want to get out of here, to find a place to be alone and figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do now.

  He doesn’t love me. That knowledge burns deeper into my heart with every step I take. I love him, but he doesn’t love me. Even though I told myself a hundred times this was coming, even though I warned myself from the beginning that my crush would never be returned, not in the way I wanted, it feels like someone has torn my heart out.

  Something tugs at my foot, nearly tripping me, and when I look down I see that my thong is caught around my ankle, tangled partway around the heel of my shoe. And that one of the bands of elastic has caught on the edge of a table leg.

  “Maggie!”

  Orlando’s voice carries across the restaurant, causing a number of people to look up from their meals.

  I’m too emotional to listen to him right now. And he’s made his stance on our relationship very clear. With a sharp tug, I free my thong from the table leg and hurry toward the door.

  “Maggie!” Orlando calls again.

  Childish as it is, I break into a run. I don’t want to have this conversation here. I’m barely holding back tears as it is. I just need to get out of here. Hide somewhere until I can pull myself together again.

  When I reach the sidewalk, I realize I have nowhere to go and no way of getting there except my own two feet. So I do what any desperate idiot does—I keep running anyway.

  Unfortunately, my thong has different ideas. I barely make it to the corner before the thong catches on something on the sidewalk, and my arms flail as I go tumbling down onto my face.

  Way to make a dramatic exit, Panty Girl.

  I lie there on the sidewalk, my cheek against the concrete, wondering how things got this bad so quickly. I was just on a date with Orlando Fontaine, then I had some of the hottest sex imaginable, and now I’m not even sure I can find the strength to climb up onto my feet again. I’m pretty sure I just tore open the lingering scabs on my knees from when I almost got hit by that car. Maybe I’ll just let myself die here, lying on top of a couple of cigarette butts and dried spots of gum.

  Panty Girl, defeated by a thong.

  A moment later, Orlando reaches me. Without a word, he leans over and picks me up, and I flop pathetically in his arms like a ragdoll. He starts down the sidewalk toward his car.

  “I have your purse,” he says without looking at me.

  I don’t know what to say. We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean—and a lot of things we did. I can deal with him thinking I’m a coward. Or that I’m not living up to my potential. But I’m not sure I can deal with the fact that he doesn’t reciprocate my feelings. That’s just too painful to bear.

  Closing my eyes, I let my head fall against his shoulder. He still
smells as good as he did that first day I met him—all woodsy and manly, just as guys should smell—and his body still feels as warm and solid against mine as it did then. I should have known the moment I laid eyes on him that it would end up being more than a crush. I’ve never responded that strongly to anyone before, physically or otherwise.

  When we reach the car, he sets me gingerly down on my feet. I climb into the passenger’s side without a word.

  The drive back to his house is just as silent. I don’t know what’s going to happen when we get there. Should I pack up all my things and hitch a cab to the airport? I don’t know if I have enough money in my bank account to afford a flight home. Justin might loan me some money if I call him, but I hate to be that person.

  Why are you bothered by this now? I ask myself. You’re already the girl who blew off a job interview for a poorly paid bit part in a movie. You’re already the girl who took off across the country with a man she’d only known for a couple of weeks. You’re already the girl who let herself develop real feelings for a celebrity. You’ve never been responsible, Maggie. Why start now?

  When he parks in front of that glorious, white-columned house, neither of us has yet to say a word to each other. But then he kills the engine, locks all the doors, and turns to look at me.

  “We should talk, Maggie.”

  Those golden eyes mean business. I’m having a hard time looking into them right now.

  “We both said a lot back at the restaurant,” I remind him. “I’m not sure there’s anything left to say.”

  He sighs. “There’s a lot left to say.”

  “Okay,” I say slowly, unsure where this is going. “If you want to start…”

  He rakes a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t expecting you to say the things you said, Maggie.”

  He doesn’t specify what things specifically he’s talking about, and he doesn’t have to.

  “Things have been a little intense for me recently,” he goes on. “Between the movie and all this stuff with my father, I haven’t had much emotional energy left over. I’ve just been trying to get through it all.” He reaches over and catches me gently by the chin, forcing me to look up at him. “You’ve been a big part of that, Maggie. More than you know. If it weren’t for you, I… I don’t know where I’d be right now, but trust me, it wouldn’t be good. I don’t know how many times or ways I can tell you this before it sinks in, but you’re the one thing getting me through the day right now. I need you, Maggie.”

  “But you don’t love me,” I whisper.

  My eyes search his, and I see so many things in his gaze—the usual burning intensity is there, of course, but beneath it is a whirlpool of other emotions shifting too fast for me to identify.

  Once again, though, his long hesitation says it all.

  I pull my face away from his grip, shaking my head. “Orlando, I can’t—”

  A sharp rap on the driver’s side window makes both of us start.

  Orlando twists around. Just outside his window stands a big, muscled guy with a closely shaved head and a dark line of stubble along his jaw. At first glance, he’s terrifying—but then I get a better look at his face. It’s the only one of Orlando’s brothers I haven’t met yet—Raphael, or Rafe, as he’s more commonly known.

  “Everything okay in there?” Rafe says through the window. His voice is so deep it’s almost startling.

  “We’re fine,” Orlando says back. He glances over at me. Whatever he had left to say to me, it clearly isn’t going to happen now.

  I flick open the lock and open the car door, climbing out. And that’s when I see that Rafe isn’t the only person standing in the driveway—there’s also a pretty, friendly faced woman with a baby in her arms.

  “What are you doing here?” Orlando demands of his brother as he gets out of the car.

  “Did you forget?” Rafe says. “You said I could get those movies for our father. Edie and I are heading over to the hospital first thing tomorrow.”

  “Oh, right,” Orlando says, still looking frazzled.

  “Did we interrupt something?” Rafe asks, glancing over at me. “I thought you said to come after six.”

  “Right. I just forgot.” Orlando starts toward the door. “Come on. I’ll grab those movies.”

  I don’t really have any choice but to follow everyone else. The pretty woman falls into step beside me.

  “Hey, I’m Edie.” She shifts the baby in her arms so she can extend a hand to me. “Rafe’s fiancée.” The baby coos and squirms, reaching out toward me. “And this little one is Melody.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” I say, giving her hand a quick shake. “And you too, Melody. I’m Maggie.”

  Melody makes a gurgling sound and grabs some of my hair.

  “She likes you,” Edie tells me with a smile, prying her daughter’s fingers open.

  Rafe turns and glances back toward me. “We’ve heard about you.”

  “Only good things,” Edie puts in quickly.

  “We heard you pushed Dante in the pool,” Rafe rumbles, a wicked smile flashing across his face. “Wish I’d been there to see that.”

  “It was an accident,” I insist. Not that anyone will believe me at this point.

  “Is it true you’re staying here?” Edie asks. “Not to gossip, but Rafe tells me Orlando’s never asked a woman to—”

  “Are you guys here to talk or get those movies?” Orlando snaps at us. “I wasn’t expecting a two-hour social call.”

  Rafe’s face twists. “Whoa, what’s gotten into you? I know you turn into a grouchy jackass whenever you’ve got a movie going, but geez. Chill the fuck out.”

  That doesn’t seem to help Orlando’s mood. He marches ahead, leaving us in his wake.

  Rafe looks over at me again. “What’s going on?”

  I don’t see any reason to hide it, especially considering Orlando’s behavior. “Actually, Orlando and I are having a bit of a dispute.” A big dispute, in which I love him and he sees me as his human stress ball. “I’m probably going home tonight.”

  Orlando stops so fast his brother almost runs into him. He twists around. “What? You’re leaving?”

  Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have started this conversation in front of an audience.

  “Well…yeah,” I say finally. “What else am I supposed to do?”

  “You’re supposed to stay,” he says, those eyes boring into me. “There’s no reason for you to go.”

  “Maybe not for you,” I say quietly. “But I have to protect myself, Orlando. And unless your feelings have changed in the last five minutes…”

  He looks like I’ve slapped him.

  I shift my weight on my feet, really wishing I’d waited to have this conversation until after Rafe and Edie left. I’ve never had particularly good timing. But staring at him now, looking into those eyes, I know I can’t stay. These emotions inside me aren’t going to shrivel up and die just because he doesn’t feel the same way. Every moment I spend with him, every time I look deep into those eyes and remember he can’t give me what I want—what I need—the pain grows deeper. I don’t know how long I can bear this.

  “I have to go,” I whisper. If I don’t, I’m going to do something stupid like sleep with him again. Or tell him I’m okay with simply being the brightest part of his day, even though that’s a lie.

  I need to be strong. For once in my life, I need to do the responsible thing.

  “I have an idea,” Edie says suddenly.

  The sound of her voice cuts some of the tension in the air, but I can still feel Orlando’s eyes staring into me as I turn to look at his brother’s fiancée.

  “Why doesn’t Maggie stay with us for a couple of days?” Edie says. “We have plenty of guest rooms. And that way she doesn’t have to rush off to the airport tonight.” The baby squirms and laughs in her arms. “See? Even Melody agrees.” She looks at Rafe. “It’s the least we can do. Your family was so kind to me when I first came to L.A.”

  “Yeah, sure,
” Rafe replies. He doesn’t look particularly excited by the idea, but judging by the way he’s looking at Edie, he probably can’t deny her much of anything. To me, he says, “Go ahead and grab your things. We can take you back with us tonight.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Orlando says to no one person in particular.

  “Excuse me.” I slip quietly away, hurrying toward the stairs.

  “Maggie!” he calls after me. He catches me when I’m halfway up the stairs, grabbing me by the arm and spinning me around to face him. “You can’t really mean to leave.”

  God, those eyes are hypnotic. They’re ordering me to stay, to forget all the complicated things that happened between us tonight. They beg me to throw myself into his arms, to pull off all his clothes, to drown in the passionate desire we share between us. I want to. So, so, so much. I want to be the irresponsible girl for one more day, or even one more hour.

  But then I feel that piercing pain in my stomach again, the one that showed up the moment I learned he didn’t love me back.

  “I just…need some time to think,” I tell him. “A little space. For a couple of days.”

  His eyes still hold me, still refuse to let me go.

  “Please, Orlando,” I whisper, and my voice cracks. “Please.”

  He releases his grip on my arm. His golden-brown eyes shift away from me as he retreats down a step.

  “Go,” he says quietly. “If you need to go, I won’t stop you.”

  I turn around before I can change my mind. Tears burn in my eyes as I dart into the guest room to grab my things.

  Half an hour later, I find myself walking into Rafe and Edie’s house, my head throbbing with tears I refuse to cry. Rafe takes the baby, and Edie gestures for me to follow her.

  What am I doing? I ask myself as Edie leads me upstairs to one of the guest rooms. I don’t even know these people. I never should have accepted their offer of hospitality. They were just trying to be polite.

  But that’s not the only regret bouncing around in my head. I just walked away from Orlando Fontaine. Girls like me don’t usually get the chance to be with guys like him, under any circumstances. I should have been grateful he even looked at me twice. I should have reveled in the time we had together, for however long it took for him to get tired of me. He’s mind-numbingly hot, astonishingly talented, and he knows how to do things in bed that I’d never even imagined before. So what if he doesn’t love me? Half a relationship with Orlando might still have been better than no relationship at all.