by Gemma James
Lesley isn’t speechless often, but she’s staring at me now with her mouth hanging open as if I sprouted another head. “Chris did what?”
I can’t blame her for being stunned. Hell, I’m still stunned, and had I not seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it either.
“He proposed.”
“Chris proposed?”
“That’s what I said.”
“He’s here in Seattle?”
“Yep.”
“That bastard!” Several people at the surrounding tables cast looks in our direction, from dirty to curious, and Les has the grace to appear sheepish. If she weren’t the manager of Java Juice, where we just finished lunch during her break, she wouldn’t give two shits about what people think.
“He showed up at your apartment?” she asks, lowering her voice. “Just like that?” A snap of her fingers punctuates the question, though I’m sure it’s rhetorical.
I nod anyway, hoping the news of Chris’ unexpected visit will be enough to derail her from other things I’m not ready to talk about yet. She’s seen the news and knows what’s going on with Monica Montgomery. She also knows how I feel about Cash. But she doesn’t know we spent the weekend together in my bed.
And she sure as hell doesn’t know he made me cream all over his fingers this morning, pushed up against the door of his office as he practically fucked me from behind through our clothing. I fight off a delicious shudder at the memory.
I want to tell her everything, but this isn’t the place to do it, and maybe a huge part of me is too ashamed. What will she think of me when she finds out I slept with him the same weekend his wife disappeared? Les is my best friend, and she’s always stood by my side no matter what, even when I was in the wrong.
But even best friends have limits, don’t they?
Regardless, she’ll chew my ass for being so stupid, and I’m not ready to stomach that conversation yet.
“Shit, I would have loved to see Chris’ face when you turned him down.” She dips her straw into her iced coffee a few times, but my silence is enough to make her do a double-take. Her keen scrutiny is heating my face.
“Oh, Jules, tell me you said no.” She glances at my left hand as if expecting to find a diamond there.
I lift a shoulder. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Nothing?”
“He caught me off-guard, okay? I stood there like an idiot when he put the ring on my finger.”
“But you’re going to say no.” Her tone lifts at the end, a hint of incredulity infusing the non-question.
“Of course I’m going to say no.”
“I had to ask. If there’s one thing Chris is good at, it’s manipulating you.”
“Give me some damn credit, Les.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
God, I need to take a chill pill. “I know you didn’t. I’m sorry.” I sip on my tea to displace the lump of guilt in my throat for being such a shitty friend.
“Don’t worry about it. I know you’ve had a lot to deal with.” She pauses for a few moments, using her straw to twirl the melting ice cubes in her cup. “How are things going with your boss?”
“Things are…”
Way too fucking complicated. I can still feel him at my back, his hot breath on my neck, his fingers stroking between my legs. Despite the soothing tea, my throat is too dry.
“Jules,” she says with a warning. “God, I know that look. What the hell happened?”
I cast a glance around us. People are caught up in their own conversations—their own drama and lives—but this is still too public of a place to admit that I slept with a married man.
There wasn’t much sleeping involved, you hussy.
“Can we not talk about this here?”
“Shit. That bad?”
I let out a derisive laugh. “Or that good, depending on how you look at it.”
She face-plants with a groan. “You got horizontal with him, didn’t you?”
My cheeks burn as I cast another glance around us. “I really don’t want to get into this here.”
She checks the time on her cell before scooting her chair back. “Let’s walk. I have a few more minutes to spare.”
We gather our trash from lunch and dump it in the receptacle on the way out the door. After we’re a block down the street, with a fair amount of privacy, she begins needling me.
“Do you regret it?”
“No,” I answer without hesitation. “The only thing I regret is the timing. He was going to ask her for a divorce, but when he got home…well you saw the news.” I peek at her and wince at the dubious arch of her dark brows. “I know what you’re thinking, but this is different.”
“Sounds the same to me. Boss? Check.” She ticks off each point on her fingers. “Married? Check.” We stall at an intersection and wait for the light to change. “And what if he’s dangerous? Did you ever stop to think that maybe he had something to do with the death of that woman and his wife’s disappearance?”
“He wouldn’t do something like that.” I shoot her a dark look. “Besides, he was with me.”
“I’m not trying to be all judgy, Jules. I just don’t want to see this guy rip your heart out.”
We begin walking again, and I let the silence stretch between us for half a block before speaking. “Neither of us meant for this to happen.” Five seconds go by. Five strides. We turn the corner and begin heading back.
“But it did happen. The question now is what are you going to do about it?”
There’s no way I can tell her I’m planning to do it again. If she knew he’s coming over tonight, she’ll try to talk me out of it, and I don’t want to be talked out of it. I want to be selfish when it comes to Cash. If that makes me a horrible person, then so be it. I’m done fighting what we both so desperately want.
“I can’t turn back now, Les. What’s done is done.”
The sun blares down on us, too warm for the start of autumn, but her assessing stare is the real cause of the flush spreading over my cheeks. “You’re taking a huge risk.”
“I know.”
“I hope he’s worth it, Jules.”
I stop and look her in the eye, and in that moment, I realize how far I’m willing to go for Cash Montgomery. “He’s worth it.”
9. Interrupted
Jules
The rest of the workday is torture. Every glance is laden with suggestion, every brush of his fingers against my wrist or shoulder a zap between the thighs. I pray to God no one notices the heat between us, but I fear we’re worse than ever at hiding it.
Five o’clock can’t come fast enough, because I’ve got plans before my “plans” with Cash tonight, and it involves my credit card and a lingerie store.
Excitement simmers my blood, despite the thick cloud of shame hanging over me. As I stride toward the exit of Mont Center, the lackluster voice of the newscaster on the TV above the coffee bar reaches my ears. I’ve heard chatter all day about Monica Montgomery.
Some think she cracked under the pressure of the job, going homicidal before taking off in a panic. Others worry she’s hurt, or worse. Then there are the few that believe she ran away with a secret lover. The theory that takes the cake is the one where she disappeared in a Gone Girl type of move, leaving Cash to pick up the pieces.
The voice coming from the television says none of these things. He sticks to the facts, and the fact is no one knows what happened to her, since Cash’s wife disappeared into thin air.
And what am I doing in the face of that? I’m about to buy sexy lingerie to seduce the woman’s husband. I’ve sunk to a whole new low, but not even the wrongness of what I’m about to do can keep me from going through with what feels so right.
Not when the memory of his touch is haunting my every waking moment. Our time together this weekend won’t stop playing in my mind on a continuous loop. No one’s ever touched me the way he did, and I don’t mean in just the physical sense. He made me feel cherished.
>
He made me feel loved.
I tried to do the right thing, but what happened this morning in his office was my final breaking point. Going down this road is bound to end badly for both of us, but that doesn’t hinder the extra bounce in my step as I enter a lingerie boutique several blocks away from work.
The consequences will come. The heartbreak after he walks out my door again and returns to the place he shares with his wife.
But what I told Les this afternoon was true; he is worth it.
After settling on a sexy bra and panty set, I head home carrying a discrete bag of pink lace—the kind of luxurious material that begs for a man’s appreciative eye, the touch of his fingers, the heat of his mouth through the soft embroidery. I want to be the atlas to his hands and lips, with these pieces of lace the roadmap to his ultimate destination.
I’m definitely going to hell, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it.
As I set the bag on my bed, I reach for my phone and shoot Cash a text telling him I need an hour. He replies seconds later.
Cash: An hour seems like forever.
Me: I’ll make it worth the wait.
Cash: You’re worth it regardless.
A smile teases the corners of my mouth, and a flurry of butterflies takes flight in my belly. Anticipation zings through my blood as I strip and get ready to jump in the shower. Before I make it to the bathroom, another text comes through.
Cash: How does Thai sound for dinner?
Me: As long as it comes with you, it sounds great.
Forty minutes later, smelling of vanilla body wash, I’m dressing in my new lingerie when I detect a knock on the front door.
Shit, he’s early. I already finished my light makeup, but my hair is falling down my back in long, wet strands, and I’ve barely buttoned up my top. I pull on a pair of distressed jeans over the new lace thong I bought—because I want to make him work for it and wearing a dress is too easy. I zip my pants, finger-comb my hair the best I can, then rush to the door and pull it open.
My heart plummets at the sight of the man standing before me.
“It was easier to avoid me when I was halfway across the country.” Chris crosses his arms, and with that cocksure stance of his, my hope for the night withers.
I dart a glance down the vestibule, but we’re alone. “You can’t keep showing up like this.”
“What else am I supposed to do? You won’t answer my calls. Hell, I can’t even get you to text me back.”
“Because I’m not ready to talk to you.” My voice rises, and casting another surreptitious look around us, I even out my tone. “You should’ve stayed in Oklahoma.”
“No, Jules, I should’ve followed you here two months ago. I should’ve fought for you.”
My heart skips a tortuous beat. If I’d answered his texts and made plans to meet him somewhere to return the ring, then maybe I could have avoided this situation. The disappointment on his face is almost too much to bear. Part of me still responds to the hurt in his brown eyes. I do my best to squash that part of myself that wants me to relent and take back the hurt I just caused him, to find a way to smooth it over. Some habits are hard to break and doing whatever it takes to make Chris happy is one of them.
“Well you didn’t,” I say, eyes downcast, “and now it’s too late.”
He steps forward, placing one hand on the open door behind me, and cages me in. “You can’t turn your feelings on and off like that. It doesn’t work that way.”
“You didn’t give me a choice. You packed up your shit and left. Remember?”
“I also remember calling you the next day to work things out, but you’d already hopped on a plane. What the hell was that, Jules?”
“That was me doing what I should’ve done a long time ago.” I draw in a deep breath then let it out. “Neither of us wanted to admit that we were over way before I fucked up with Perry. That was just the catalyst.”
“I don’t buy it. I know you still love me.”
“Part of me will always love you. We’ve known each other for years. How can I not?”
“Then how the fuck can you give up on us like this?”
I flinch at his harsh tone. “It’s not a matter of giving up, Chris. It’s about moving forward.”
He clenches his jaw, and his eyes darken, causing my chest to tighten. As his face comes closer, I forget how to breathe. Next thing I know, his mouth is on mine, the pressure of his lips familiar and insistent as his tongue works past my resistance and darts inside.
He groans, but my throat is a vise silencing even the faintest of sounds. I slam my palms against his chest, meaning to push him away. Instead, I’m paralyzed.
There’s something comforting in his kiss—a hint of the stability I’d grown used to while we were together—and for a few agonizing heartbeats, I give in, returning lick for lick as I grip his shirt in my hands. It’s like being transported back to Oklahoma, to simpler times when he was mine and I was his. We might have fought too often, but at the end of the day I knew I’d have him to come home to.
Until the day I didn’t.
Reality slams into me, and I break the kiss before it can go any further. “I can’t do this.”
“Tell me you didn’t feel that, Jules.”
There’s triumph in his eyes, and I’m about to set him straight when I catch sight of the figure standing behind Chris.
Cash is motionless, his gray eyes narrowed and turbulent as a brewing storm. He’s clutching a takeout bag in his fist, and in the other, I spot a bouquet of tulips.
I open my mouth to speak, but Chris takes one look at my stricken expression and whirls to find my boss standing behind him, staring back with a harsh glint in the steel of his eyes.
“Can we help you with something?” Chris demands, attempting to block my view of Cash.
I step out from behind my ex and find Cash swinging his gaze between Chris and me. He ensnares me in his sight for a few heavy beats, perhaps waiting for me to tell him that what he saw was nothing.
No big deal. A misunderstanding, even.
But this is a conversation we can’t have in front of Chris. The last thing I want to do is cause him more trouble when he’s already dealing with so much. I try to relay to him silently that there is an explanation, but the turbulence in his eyes is a dark gunmetal gray—as overpowering as the weight of the air between the three of us.
There’s no mistaking his anger, and behind that, mistrust.
He’s been betrayed before, and he knows I’ve betrayed someone before. Even knowing that, the way he’s staring at me fucking hurts. He turns away, and I have to bite my lip to keep from calling after him. With Chris here, we can’t afford a bigger scene.
“Who was that?” Chris asks after Cash disappears down the stairs that lead into the alley.
“Just some guy Les set me up with.” My voice wobbles too much, and I can’t meet his gaze because I’m certain he’ll see through the lie.
“That wasn’t a random hookup, Jules. That dude was so fucking territorial, I’m surprised he didn’t piss on your doorstep.”
“It was nothing, really.” I retreat into the sanctuary of my apartment, and Chris follows, letting the door slam behind him.
“It wasn’t nothing. The guy brought you tulips, so don’t even try to play this off as if it’s no big deal. Who is he, Jules?”
“He’s none of your damn business.” I stride through my bedroom and into the bathroom where I left his engagement ring on the counter.
Chris is on my heels the whole way, and when I turn to confront him, I bump into his chest. He steadies me by gripping my arms. “Tell me he doesn’t matter.” The challenge in his voice is unmistakable. So is the hurt and anger.
“He matters,” I say, words mangled as I try to put a lid on my emotions. Stepping back until he lets go of me, I hold out the ring. “And this…” I falter, heartbeat throbbing in my chest. “It doesn’t belong to me.”
He shakes his head, stubborn as
ever. “Who else does it belong to? I bought it for you.”
“But you didn’t give it to me until now. Why do you think that is?”
“Don’t hold the past over my head like that. You don’t see me holding Perry over yours.”
Taking his hand, I push the ring into his palm and fold his fingers around what could have been. “What I did that night shadows me no matter where I go. I know I hurt you.” I pause, swallowing hard. “But you were right to leave. We should have called it quits a long time ago.”
He grabs me by the nape, breath shuddering across my lips. “I should have grown the fuck up and put you first. There is so much shit I should have done, but leaving wasn’t one of them. Leaving was the biggest fucking mistake I ever made.”
I close my eyes and breathe, willing my body to stop trembling—to search for strength, because the truest depth of honesty is a bitch, and it stings something fierce.
“And staying would have been the biggest mistake I would have made.”
His expression crumbles. “Jules…”
I push past him and head to the front door with him on my heels. “I want you to go back to Oklahoma.”
“Don’t do this. You’re reacting out of fear. Or he’s gotten inside your head. Just think about it. This guy can’t be so important that you’d throw us away like this.”
As I swing the door open, the finality of this moment hits me.
The harsh truth of it.
Cash is more important to me than Chris ever was, even in the midst of our happiest times. I’m not sure what that says about me, but I can’t deny the irrevocable pull I feel toward Cash.
“I’m sorry.”
“So that’s it? You’re sorry?” he seethes. “Are you seriously not even going to try to work this out?”
“We can work on being friends, but that’s all I can give you.” I pull the door open wider and give him a pointed look, but behind my cool facade, I’m shaking inside. Confrontations with Chris never fail to drain me, and I already feel myself sinking into despondency.
For several seconds, he doesn’t move, too busy grinding his teeth. Then he storms out of my apartment, and after he disappears from sight, I let the tears fall.
