by Lea Nolan
Walked across the room and picked up her laptop. And logged into Facebook.
The images sliced a hole in her heart.
Why didn't I listen to Raven?
Chapter 9
This was either Smith's most brilliant idea, or the worst one. There was only one way to find out.
He balanced the take-out box and bag in one hand, and rang Wren's doorbell with the other. Then waited.
And waited.
Shit. This was a mistake. He should've gone home after the restaurant closed. But after skipping their lunch date because of a headache, Wren's voice still sounded off this evening when he'd called to check in. He couldn't stay away, especially if there was something he could do, like bring her a gourmet meal.
But now, it looked like he'd be eating it alone in his own kitchen. Served him right for dropping by uninvited. Turning, he headed down the porch steps.
The door opened behind him. He spun to find Wren standing in the doorway, dressed in a bathrobe over pink pajamas, her hair in a messy bun. "Hey."
Even though she was smiling, she looked weary, like she'd been dragged through hell and back. But damn if she wasn't every bit as beautiful as yesterday at the beach.
Which could only mean one thing. He'd fallen even harder than he'd realized.
Then a second, crueler realization struck like lightning on a late summer night. In three short days, Wren would be gone, back to Baltimore and her work-obsessed life, too busy for visits to the beach.
Fuck. A mixture of pain and yearning knotted his gut. He needed to step up his game. Give her a reason to come back to Heron Harbor. And to him.
He nodded toward the box in his hands. "I brought dinner. Figured you didn't eat much today."
She forced a small chuckle as she stepped aside to let him in. "Depends on whether a pint of ice cream counts as food."
"It does, but I promise you'll like what I've brought better. Where can I put these?" he asked as he walked through the foyer and down the hall.
"The living room's good. I've been on the couch all day. Might as well stay there."
Smith set the box and bag down on the coffee table in front of the sofa positioned for the best view of the Atlantic. This late at night, the dark ocean was barely visible except for the frothy white caps that crashed against the shore.
A fire burned in the nearby fireplace, the log crackling under the flames. A thick, inviting blanket lay on the couch.
The urge swelled to sweep her off her feet, set her down on the soft cushion, and make love to her, allowing his body to confess the feelings he couldn't speak out loud. Not yet, at least. Not until he knew she felt the same way.
Because if he told her just how much he loved her—had always loved her—it might scare her away. But his hands and mouth could speak for him as he savored every inch of her gorgeous body. She'd feel his adoration. His awe at her brilliance. His promise to treat her as no other man had, and with the respect she deserved.
But she had a headache. And a strange almost-sadness loomed behind her eyes. So he buried the desire that sent blood pooling to his groin and focused instead on the reason he'd stopped by.
As he lifted the take-out containers from the box, he nodded toward the romance novel on the coffee table. The cover featured a red-haired, bare-chested Highlander in a kilt holding a sword. Smith didn't know much about Scotland, but he was pretty sure that dude probably wished he was wearing a shirt. "Finished your book yet?"
Wren sighed. "I tried, but I couldn't get into it. I guess I wasn't in the mood for a happily ever after."
The sadness in her tone tugged at his heart. This was about more than just a headache. Something was up.
His head cocked to the side. "You okay?"
"I will be." Hesitant, her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. "If you'll do something for me."
"Anything."
"Put your arms around me." Her bottom lip quivered.
That he could do. And more. All she had to do was ask. Rising to his full height he stepped around the table to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. "Like this?"
Wren clasped her hands behind his neck. "Kiss me. Please." More than a request, it was a plea.
One he'd never ignore.
Dipping his head, his mouth closed on hers. She kissed him back, hard, taking control by sweeping her tongue past his lips. On a moan, she closed the already small space between them and dug her fingers into his back. This wasn't like any of the soft, tentative and tender kisses they'd shared. This was needy. Hungry. Filled with want.
Holy shit. Talk about an answered prayer.
Heat shot through his core, making him hard. God, he wanted this woman. Like a fire wanted oxygen. And she obviously wanted him. Pressing his length against her, he showed her just what her touch did to him.
With her mouth still on his, she released her arms and slid the robe off her shoulders. It pooled in a heap on the floor. Her hands were on him again, pawing at his abs, then tugging the bottom of his T-shirt.
Whipping the fucker off, he tossed it on the sofa, then dove back in to kiss her sexy, plump, red lips. His hand slid beneath her shirt and his fingertips grazed the hardened points of her nipples. Rolling them between his fingers, his mouth watered to taste them. He lifted her shirt and lowered his head.
She laid her hands on his, stilling them. "No. You took the lead yesterday. Now it's my turn." Pressing another kiss to his mouth, she laid her palms against his bare chest and led him backward to the sofa, then pushed him down onto the cushion.
Fuck yeah.
Wren slid her pajama bottoms down, revealing light blue lace panties. Stepping out of the soft cotton pants, she slid off her top. Her breast were round and firm. Perfect. His cock grew an extra half inch.
Wren climbed onto the sofa and straddled Smith's lap. Until this second, she'd shoved all thoughts out of her mind, focusing instead on her body, and what this gorgeous, sexy man could do to it. But now, looking into his eyes, she realized her need wasn't just about making her feel whole again after learning about her ex's wedding. She had a deeper want that perhaps even Smith couldn't meet.
She wound her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. "I need to...feel wanted." The whispered words were a confession.
Air exited his lungs in a gush. "Oh, I want you. You have no idea how much I want you." His fingertips clutched her hips.
"I want to believe that." But too many men had proven that too often, their words bore no relation to their actions.
Smith placed her palm against the hard length that pressed against the zipper of his jeans. "Does that convince you?"
She nodded, but spoke the words that revealed her worst fear. "You won't hurt me, will you?"
His expression softened. "Don't worry. We can go slow."
Dammit. He'd misunderstood. She shook her head. "I'm not worried about that. I mean, you won't...break my heart?" Her voice trembled and her stupid eyes betrayed her by welling with tears she swore she wouldn't shed. There'd been too many already this morning. Enough to float a damn boat.
He took her hands in his. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
She nodded. "Yes. I have to."
His brows knit. "You don't have to do anything. Ever. Not with me." His expression was solemn. This was a rock-solid promise from him to her.
Which made him even more perfect than she'd realized.
And made her feel worse than ever.
Smith Connors was a good, decent man, unlike any she'd ever known. He was her friend, and possibly more. He deserved better than a revenge screw. As much as she wanted to sleep with him—and good Lord, she wanted to—this wasn't right. She shouldn't give herself to him unless she could do it without reservation or an agenda.
But those damn photos of that damn wedding had messed with her head. The pictures, with those stupid smiling faces, and the stupid palm trees behind them, had dredged back up painful memories and deep insecurities that had her questioning her worth an
d desirability all over again. And worse, they'd made her question her judgement and ability to trust. Which was supremely screwed up because her brain knew that Smith was a good guy, but her scarred heart was too afraid to believe it.
Smith ran his fingers along her jaw. "What's wrong?"
Her throat thickened as she fought the hot, burgeoning tears that singed the corners of her eyes. "I just wanted a clean slate. I thought this would do it."
"Shh, it's okay." He reached for his T-shirt on the cushion beside them and slipped it over her head. Her hands slid through the arms. The soft cotton was still warm from his body and smelled like his deodorant. "I get it." He brushed a hot tear that spilled down her cheek.
Wren shook her head. "No, you don't."
"Then help me understand."
Another tear fell and she wiped it with the back of her hand. "It's stupid."
"If it bothers you, it can't be." Smith nudged her hips. "Tell me."
She drew a deep breath. "Raven called this morning to warn me not to check my Facebook account."
"But you did it anyway," he said, because he knew her, and that a warning like that would work about as well was telling a moth to avoid a flame.
"Like an idiot." Shifting her gaze, she focused on the fire crackling in the fireplace. "My ex got married yesterday. In Jamaica. At the resort I paid for." Wren turned back in time to see Smith wince.
"What a douchebag," he said.
She couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah. He even wore the tux I bought for him. But that's not the worst part."
"Don't tell me Lolita wore your dress."
"No, thank God. Though I wouldn't have put it past her. Her dress was ugly, so at least there's that."
"So besides this guy being an epic dick, and his new wife's horrible taste, what's the worst part?"
Swallowing hard, Wren forced the words past the concrete lump in her throat. "A bunch of my co-workers and one of the named partners were there, too. Which means they didn't elope. This was planned. Everyone knew the wedding was happening and no one told me." Broken all over again, she leaned forward and laid her head in the hollow of Smith's shoulder. "Thank God I was here this week instead of the office. I can just imagine the stares and whispers I'd have faced." Her body quaked as the silent tears flowed.
Smith enveloped her in his arm. "I'm so sorry, babe." Holding her close, he rubbed her back and whispered soothing sounds into her ear.
Hot tears pooled on his bare skin as she cried, releasing her pain. "I just feel so..." Wren searched for the right words to describe the hot, confused mixture of emotions that roiled her insides, but came up short. "I don't even know how I feel."
"How about betrayed and humiliated? Because that's exactly what that fucker did to you."
She lifted her head to meet Smith's blue eyes. "He really did."
Tipping her jaw with his fingers he bore into her. "He's not a man. Not a good one at least. He was never worthy of you."
"I know that." She swiped the tears with the back of her hand.
"Do you? Really?" Smith's blue gaze pierced straight through her.
Wren sniffed at her runny nose. "I do. And I'm over him. I haven't loved him in months. I don't even hate him anymore. I'm...indifferent to him. Which is why I can't understand why I'm still so upset. It's completely illogical."
Smith entwined his hands in hers. "I've got an idea. He took advantage of your generosity and trust and he's never paid a price for being such a prick. He's still got his friends—and some of yours—he hasn't paid you back, and a named partner likes him enough to show up at his wedding. This isn't a love, thing, counselor, this is an injustice thing. A lawyer like you needs to see the bad guy get his in the end, but that bad guy hasn't. At least not yet."
Her jaw dropped. Smith was right. About everything. He saw her, completely. A weight lifted from her chest making her feel as if she could float to the ceiling. "You're brilliant."
He chuckled. "I don't know about that. But I know you have a right to feel hurt and angry. And to fear that another guy might do the same thing to you." He leaned his forehead against hers. "But I'm not that guy. I won't break your trust."
"I believe you." And in this moment, she did. Wren kissed him, sweetly, slowly. His lips were salty from her tears.
Smith pulled back and cupped her face in her hands. "I don't want to just be your clean slate, Wren. This thing between us...it means more to me than that."
"I understand. I do." In silence, she ran her finger across the contours of his chest. The fine hairs were soft to the touch. "Thanks for listening. You really helped me." She flicked him a flirtatious glance. "If you like, we can pick up where we left off."
A low rumble rolled in the back of his throat as he ran his palms over her bare thighs. "There's nothing I'd rather do." He lifted his hands and entwined his fingers with hers. "But I didn't come here tonight to get laid." She raised her brow and he laughed. "Okay, so it may have crossed my mind. But I was equally okay with it not happening because I knew you weren't feeling well."
She smiled. "I'm better now."
The sides of his mouth curled. "I'm glad. But I don't want you to do it for me. I want you to want it as much as I do. I'll wait as long as it takes." He lifted the back of her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
As much as she wouldn't mind taking him upstairs, or more conveniently, getting busy right here on the couch, in her heart, she knew Smith was right. Sex was one thing, giving herself to him on an emotional level was another. After today's tangle of messy emotions, she wasn't in the right head space to know which she was ready for. Until she did, it wasn't fair to be with him.
She sighed, as her eyes drank him in, the next best thing to claiming him for herself. "So now what?"
He nodded toward the take out box and bag on the coffee table. "There's some killer shrimp scampi and osso buco in there, and a tiramisu that will bring you to tears. The good kind." He grinned.
Hunger surged and she spun herself off his lap. "What are you waiting for?"
Chapter 10
Wren woke up with a plan.
Smith was right. She needed justice. The bad guy hadn't gotten his. Yet.
That was about to change. Pierce would pay. Literally.
She grabbed her laptop and drafted her civil action lawsuit then assembled her official complaint to the Office of Bar Counsel and printed them on the small mobile printer she always carried with her.
Wren-the-door-mat was dead.
She'd make her scheming, thieving ex-fiancé pay back every cent he owed if it was the last thing she did. Smiling as she sealed the envelope, she imagined his stunned face when he received the formal notice at the office.
Her declaration of independence wasn't complete. Picking up her cell phone, she dialed Hal Buckwald, one of the senior partners in the Baltimore office.
"Hey Wren, how's it going? Enjoying that vacation of yours?" His southern accent dripped with honey. He sounded nice. Too nice. Hal was a shark who never wasted time on small talk when he could use those few seconds to cut you off at the knees instead. Which meant he knew about Pierce's not so impromptu wedding, too. Fantastic.
She forced a smile he couldn't see to project confidence through the phone line. "I'm doing great. The time off has been much more enjoyable than I imagined." Smith's gorgeous face flashed across her mind, along with his shirtless chest and sculpted muscles.
Hal exhaled with relief. "That's good to hear. It's a damn shame things didn't work out for y'all. As tough as it is to accept, sometimes things aren't meant to be."
So he did know about the destination wedding, confirming she was the only one in the office who didn't. Shoving the humiliation to the back of her mind, she stuck to the only upside of remaining single.
"Actually, I couldn't be happier to have dodged that bullet. I've got a feeling it saved me a lot of future heartache." She padded down the stairs to the kitchen.
He chuckled. "You can't know how happy I am to hear that. It'
s so much better to let bygones be bygones rather than getting caught up in that scorned woman stuff."
Scorned woman stuff. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Wren bit her tongue. She had bigger flounder to filet. "Not scorned, but definitely conscientious. Which is why I'd like to avoid future issues as well. The current work situation is untenable. I cannot continue working with the same team members."
"I'm way ahead of you."
Reaching for the refrigerator door, she stopped in her tracks. "You are?" Shocked, she'd expected to have to fight for a staff realignment.
"You won't be working with either Pierce or Lolita anymore. The partners and I have decided it's time you made partner yourself," Hal said.
The Heavens broke open and a chorus of angels sang in perfect harmony. This was the answer to her prayers, the reward she'd worked so hard for, and more than deserved.
"Thank you, sir. I'm thrilled." She grabbed the orange juice from the fridge and poured herself a glass.
"Don't thank me. You earned it. And to show our appreciation, we're handing you a big assignment and I know you're up for the challenge."
"Tell me more."
"We've haven't shared this widely but we're opening a new branch office. Brett Johnson was supposed to take point on getting it up and running but he's just found out his wife's having triplets. With her family in Baltimore he can't relocate. So we'd like to offer that position to you. In Atlanta."
The temperature in the beach house dropped ten degrees. "Move...to Atlanta?" The words sounded foreign as they crossed her lips.
"Sure. It's a great city. You'll love it," Hal said.
"But I don't know anything about opening a new branch office. And I'm not licensed to practice in Georgia." Leaving the kitchen, Wren headed to the living room.
"You're brilliant. You'll figure it out in no time. And their bar will be a snap for you to pass," Hal said.
Boosted by his belief in her, the boss-pleasing part of her brain began to consider it. "They do have some pretty great food there."
"There's the spirit. How soon can you relocate?"
