by Leslie Kelly
So she was unprepared for Dylan’s soft, sleepy words.
“Merry Christmas, my wife.”
* * *
HE HAD NO IDEA what time it was when he opened his eyes, head digging deeper into the pillow. The sun slanted through the plantation shutters in Ari’s bedroom now, too strong for the closed slats to keep it out fully. But where was she?
He felt her empty pillow, her side of the bed cold. He stared up at the red and white Christmas lights that blinked on her headboard and wondered how she’d reacted to his words as he’d fallen asleep moments after they’d...made love.
There was no doubt that’s what had happened for him. But with Ari already out of bed, she obviously wasn’t thinking the same thing. For all her joking that he could read her mind, he could never be sure what was running through her head. He’d gotten adept at guessing her moods in high school, mostly because he could never take his eyes off her. Amazingly, some of her habits and gestures remained exactly as he remembered them, so he could make lucky guesses now and then.
But as for how she felt about him and this marriage?
Her absence spoke volumes.
His gut knotted. He didn’t have enough time to win her over. Would never have enough time to romance her the way she deserved. His job demanded commitment, extra hours and a hell of a lot of secrecy.
Resentment tightened into a cold fist, something he rarely equated with his job. Shoving aside the covers, he discovered his bag at the end of the bed. A cue to him to get moving? Hopefully just a thoughtful gesture.
He showered and brushed his teeth in a blink, more than ready to find out where things stood with Arianna. To push for more time to explore where this connection might lead.
He wasn’t one bit prepared for what he saw.
His strong, power broker lover—the woman who delivered the glitz to Vegas and made it look easy—sat sobbing beneath the Christmas tree. She clutched a wrapped gift in her hands, her tears obvious even from across the room.
“Ari?” He went to her, kneeling beside her.
Her thick hair was still damp from the shower, the waves even longer when wet. The shoulders of her white silk robe were soaked through from her hair while her face was wet with tears. She cried noiselessly, her shoulders shaking in a way that freaked him out.
“What is it? Everything okay?” He pried the small white package with a red bow from her hands and set it aside before gathering her in his arms. Settling her half on his lap.
She shook her head. “Everything is not okay.” Tugging tissues from the pocket of her robe, she wiped her eyes. “In my business, we have to go on stage and make everything look good, even when it’s not. But this is real life, and I can’t put on a happy face when...”
“When what?” He must have missed something. How had they gone from the kind of sizzling encounter they’d had a few hours ago to...this? “I know I probably shouldn’t have fallen asleep but I’d been up for thirty-six hours and—”
“It’s not you!” she protested, thunking her head twice against his shoulder before she straightened. Sniffled. “It’s me. I suck and you deserved a better wife for four months than the one you got stuck with.”
He brought her face up so she looked at him. “Do you see me complaining? Last I checked I was shouting to the ceiling that you were the hottest thing on earth.”
She laughed, a wry sound that didn’t contain half enough humor.
“We both know that’s not enough for me to pass myself off as a good wife.”
She cared about being a good wife? About pleasing him?
“First of all, we’ve haven’t even spent twenty-four hours together as a married couple, so you should probably cut yourself some slack.” He smoothed a wet lock of hair away from her face, imagining how often he would repeat that gesture in a lifetime—if he could figure out what was holding her back from giving him a real chance. “Second, you’ve made a huge success of everything you’ve ever undertaken, Ari. Marriage wouldn’t be any different.”
She sniffed again. “Hypothetically.”
“Right. But now that we’ve gotten over that first crazy lust of a homecoming, we can afford to think less hypothetically.” He hadn’t wanted to approach it so bluntly, but she seemed so upset, he couldn’t put it off any longer. “We married for a reason, and neither of us had enough to drink to sway our judgment all that much. So what if we gave our impulses a little credit and considered...staying together?”
Her breath caught. She put her hand over her lips. For a second, he believed she might smile. But in the end, it was a sob she couldn’t hold back. She had to clamp it down with her fingers while she shook her head. Wordlessly, she handed him the wrapped gift she’d been holding when he first came in.
He had a bad feeling.
“What’s this?”
“Just open it and you’ll...see.”
With that ominous invitation still ringing in his ears, he ripped off the ribbon and tore through the paper. If she was going to call the whole thing off, better to find out now and walk out of here before he dug a hole any deeper, right?
He’d always known she wouldn’t settle for a guy who was gone most of the time. A simple military man didn’t fit in her glitzy world. He opened the box to find a small bottle of Jose Cuervo and a very expensive fountain pen.
“They’re not the most personal gifts, but then again, I’m not sure that they’re worth crying over.” He held the tequila up to the light, remembering the glasses they’d downed the night of his birthday.
“I thought you would find it funny, I guess. We could drink a toast to the past while we signed...you know. The papers.” Her voice wavered on the words, but her eyes were clear. Her shoulders steady after the outpouring of emotions earlier. “When you left here so awkwardly last time—as if you couldn’t leave fast enough—I feared the wedding was all a joke. A silly fantasy I’d been able to live for a while but was over. And then when you didn’t call so we could at least talk about it...”
She trailed off awkwardly. And those softly spoken words full of disappointment hurt him far more than any gag gift. To think of her here—hoping he’d get in touch with her when he couldn’t—tore him up. And worse, there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.
“My job is restrictive.” He’d tried unsuccessfully to explain this to girlfriends in the past. But never to anyone as important as Arianna.
“I remember that.” She nodded. Accepting. “But Krista’s husband works in the air force and they talk on Skype...all the time. She doesn’t always know where he is, but they talk. So when I didn’t hear from you until recently—and even then, just enough to say you’d be in town for the holidays...” She cleared her throat and straightened up the ripped wrapping paper he’d left on the floor. “I assumed you were only stopping by to correct a past mistake.”
“I don’t have the same kind of job as Krista’s husband.” He keyed in on that since he hadn’t heard much of what she said beyond that. The arrow of all the ways he couldn’t fulfill her stuck in his chest and made it tough to think about anything else. He’d never been a man of many words, but he’d always thought she understood him. At least, she used to.
Vaguely, he realized she must be nervous since her hands wouldn’t be still. It had been a long time since he’d seen her be nervous. He’d sure as hell never seen her as upset as he’d made her this morning.
He’d done that. He’d been responsible for all those tears by never being here and never getting in touch with her.
“You can see why I thought you didn’t want to be married,” she said quietly, filling the silence since he didn’t know how to.
“I can.” He couldn’t do this to her. Couldn’t hurt her any more than he already had. “I’ve always understood my job would be tough on relationships. I understood it back in high school when I told you my pl
ans. Even then, I didn’t want to hold you back from your dreams by asking you to—”
Her eyes went wide. She’d had no clue that he’d loved her forever. Had tried to forget her for her own good.
She watched him expectantly, waiting for declarations he couldn’t make and promises he couldn’t give. He didn’t blame her, but this day was killing him. He took a deep breath.
And made the tough decision.
“I’m going to take a rain check on the tequila toast,” he said finally, keeping his voice light. Easy. He tucked the small bottle in the breast pocket of an old gray button-down he’d put on this morning. “But I’m going to put the bottle with the old wedding pictures, which I happen to like.” Standing, he strode over to the coffee table where they’d left the original prints scattered the night before. “It’ll be a testament to a crazy dream that didn’t quite work out. When you’re ready to sign the papers that will make things less awkward, just give me a call.”
He’d brought his bag out into the front room after his earlier shower, so it wasn’t difficult to gather his things. He’d always been more of a tech guy—never good at the emotional stuff. It wasn’t fair to expect Arianna to understand him, even if she came a hell of a lot closer than anyone else ever had. He took one last look at his hot wife—the woman of his dreams—with her Christmas tree behind her and the city of Las Vegas spread out in the background beyond the windows. This life—this woman—would never be for him.
Without one thing to recommend himself to her and with no excuse for his sorry-ass lack of commitment to her, thanks to the bigger needs of the job, he headed for the door.
6
“YOU WAIT JUST one minute,” Arianna called, seeing the best thing—the best someone—that had ever happened to her walk away. “Dylan Rivera, I’m talking to you, damn it.”
On her feet in a flash, she streaked past him to plaster herself between him and the door. Heart beating fast, she grabbed either side of the door frame. Probably a little too dramatic since Dylan didn’t seem like the kind of guy to nudge her aside.
But he seemed intent on catching her off guard in every way possible today.
He halted in his tracks. His expression gave nothing away, his eyes unreadable. Neutral. His jaw flexed, though. A sign of annoyance? Frustration?
Too. Damn. Bad. She realized he was right about one thing; she was a passionate person who acted quickly and decisively. That night, she hadn’t been some romantic fool she didn’t recognize—she’d been herself. The person who loved Dylan Rivera. So she was getting answers from him if she had to shake them loose with her bare hands.
“I’m a private person,” she reminded him. “A strong person, maybe. But private. And sensitive. Even so, I bared my soul to you in a flood of tears just now, so I would appreciate it if you could let me talk through—think through—what’s happening here before we make a huge mistake by ignoring this once-in-a-lifetime chemistry we share.”
“I’m listening.” He made no move to set his bag down. Then again, he hadn’t plucked her from the door and made a run for it.
She risked lowering her arms, yet resisted the urge to flatten her palms to his warm chest. When she touched him, she couldn’t think straight. And right now, more than anything, she needed to keep her head in order. She needed to find a way past Dylan’s barrier so she would know once and for all where they stood as a couple, even if finding out broke her heart. Her feelings for him were well worth any risk.
“You’ve never made your job clear to me, but I remember that you hoped to work with the most highly classified, coolest military technology in the world.” She folded her arms, trying to put the pieces of the Dylan Rivera puzzle together. She was a smart woman, right? She could figure him out, figure them out. “I’m going to assume that you achieved those career goals beyond your wildest imaginings and that you’re now doing work that limits what you can tell me.”
As soon as she said the words aloud, she realized where a military techno-geek stationed in southern Nevada probably worked. She crossed Nellis AFB off the list and wondered why she hadn’t considered another scenario before. The Groom Lake facility—more commonly known as Area 51—was so close but supremely well guarded. Her gaze flew to Dylan’s face and he quirked an eyebrow.
She scowled at him. “Okay, so maybe I should have put that together sooner, but I’ve been too busy thinking about why we got married in the first place and if you really wanted to be married.”
Finally, he set his bag down on the foyer floor. “I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t love you to distraction.”
“Oh.” She reached for her heart, feeling the impact of his statement in a mixture of pain and sweetness. Pain because she’d almost let him walk away when he felt this way about her. Sweetness because...thank God, she hadn’t let him walk away. “You should have said something.”
“The State of Nevada has it on record, Ari.” He took a step closer, his eyes shifting to a softer shade of gray—the familiar eyes of the Dylan she’d known since they first faced each other across a chess board in high school.
She flung her arms around his waist. Buried her head in his shoulder. “I was afraid that was just an effect of the tequila and Vegas.”
She held him tight, convincing herself she hadn’t dreamed the love words he’d said. He smelled so good. Felt even better.
“God, Ari, I’ve wanted to be with you since prom night, but it seemed wrong to start something then when we both had big dreams that would consume most of our time and personal devotion.” He gripped her shoulders and eased her far enough away to meet her gaze. “I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve achieved. You amaze me.”
“I wish I could see you work,” she confessed, so proud of the man he’d grown into she could just burst. “I’ll bet you’re pretty amazing, too.”
He didn’t confirm or deny it, but of course, he didn’t need to. He’d been brilliant in high school—graduating at the top of their class and going on to the Air Force Academy. When she thought back on their prom night and those milk shakes, she remembered him laying out his dreams for her.
Except...he hadn’t been just dreaming. He’d gone on to do all those things he’d confided to her.
“Aside from my feelings for you, Arianna, I let myself envision that you might be the only woman able to handle the crap toll that my job takes on a relationship.” His dark brows formed a flat line, concern etched in his gray eyes. “When we talked at the Hard Rock on my birthday and I started to understand how successful you’ve become and how much you enjoy your work, I realized you’re very independent and that you like it that way. So maybe you’d be okay with a husband who was gone all the time.”
“I am, I would. But how could you ever imagine I wouldn’t want to hear from you? To know you’re okay? Being independent doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. You have to give me something to hold on to.” She shook her head and dragged him back into her living room, back to the sofa where they’d made love the night before. Being there—beside the tree—helped her feel like a family.
“I never guessed that you were analyzing things so carefully. I figured it was just the hot attraction talking.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I was dying to have you.”
“But while I was sneaking into your dressing room to get a peek at you naked, you were thinking about how we could make a real marriage.”
She bit her bottom lip, not denying that her heart had been traveling that path. But she still needed to hear him say he wanted to go that route with her. Loving someone didn’t automatically include a life together. She’d seen that often enough.
He shifted on the sofa beside her, the leather creaking. “What I still don’t know is what you think about us having a real marriage.” His gaze wandered over her, as if he could find the answer if he studied her long enough.
>
Damn it, for all that she’d accused him of not communicating with her, he was doing a better job of it than she was.
“I love you,” she told him simply, wanting her feelings to be as clear as day. No guessing. “I’ve worn this wedding band either around my neck or on my finger every single day since you gave it to me four months ago. The only reason I got you the tequila and the pen for Christmas is because I thought you didn’t really want to be married. I hoped that if I tried to play it cool, I would be able to pass off the night as just some wild and crazy impulse and we would be able to stay in each other’s lives. I didn’t want to risk losing you altogether.”
“I gave you that ring for you to keep forever.” He folded her hands in his and squeezed them gently. Then, he placed his thumb and forefinger on the simple silver band and gave it a small twist. “Nothing would make me happier than to know you’ll be wearing it for at least that long. And I promise to try and call you from some windowless room somewhere.”
Happy relief soothed the frayed nerves of the morning and the tense weeks when he’d been deployed. Hope and joy swelled in her heart until she felt so full of it that it threatened to spill over onto everything she touched. So finally, she let herself touch him. She pressed her hands to his chest, reveling in the racing beat of his heart that told her he was every bit as emotional about building a future together. She just hoped she could give him the wonderful reassurance he’d given her.
“You were right about me enjoying my job. I will miss you when you’re not in town, but I’ll definitely keep busy.” Now that she wasn’t worried he wanted to sign divorce papers, her brain began working through all the ways a marriage could work. “I have a good network of friends.”
“I think Ricardo the snake charmer is a little in love with you,” Dylan observed, wry humor in his voice.
She shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about Ricardo. Sheba is a definite deal breaker.” She got to her feet, her fingers trailing along his chest, soaking up the feel of him. “I’m getting champagne, okay? We’re having a toast, but it’s going to be with the Moet I never opened last night instead of the tequila.”
