I waited silently, giving him the time he needed to decide what to do with me. Hell, I wouldn’t blame him if he ended our stay early. I’d acted on impulse when I booked us an overly expensive last minute stay—one I’d be paying for on my personal credit card for the rest of my life so Quinn would never know that I hadn’t actually won the vacation like I’d said I had.
Guilt ate at my insides for lying to him, but if he knew I’d seen him that day…knew this was all a test…
If Grant permitted us to continue through the program, then maybe we could see if we still had what it took to love with a passion like none other…because that is how it was before. And after last night—where we both crashed while watching late night TV after the long flight here—I knew we needed this more than ever. We needed someone like Grant. A professional to push our boundaries and shake up the routine that was now suffocating me.
“I was intrigued by your application,” Grant said, reclaiming the cup of blue paint. “I’ve never had a couple who have been in your situation—with a child so young but still married after all this time.” He jerked his arm toward the canvas, and a splash of blue hit the wall, causing a massive pool to bleed to the floor. Mixed with the reds and purples he’d already used, it was actually kind of beautiful in a chaotic way.
“Really?” I asked, stepping closer to watch the tiny trails of blue slowly drip down the canvas. It looked like the wall was crying.
“How do you think you secured a suite on such short notice?” He arched another eyebrow at me before scooping up the cup of bright orange and handed it to me.
I took it hesitantly, unsure of what to do with it.
He motioned his head toward the wall, a smirk on his lips.
“I’ll mess up your painting.” I shook my head, trying to hand the cup of thick paint to him.
“That’s impossible,” he said and pointed at the wall. “If you want to stay here, and take part in the program without your husband knowing, then you have to show me you’re committed to it. I don’t take love lightly. My resort isn’t just an adult playground. There are rules, and these sessions are meant to help you and your partner.”
My shoulders sank, the hope bursting in my chest like a popped balloon.
“But,” he said, and I lifted my eyes to his. “If you’re serious about this, if you’re serious about him, then I’m here to help you.”
“I am,” I said. “I love him. I just want to know I’m enough. That we were for real—not just a couple of kids that fell into something bigger than we originally were made for.”
He nodded, then eyed the paint in my hands. “First step is honesty. I commend you for opening up to me today. Most people would’ve tried to hide it. The second step is getting you to loosen up because I can tell from the anxiety you wear around you like a too-tight shirt, you’re wound up. Consider this your safe space. You don’t need to hide anything in my room—anger, fear, anxiousness, lust—let it all out here and then return to him with an open heart and mind and see him for who he really is.”
The urge to admit to Grant the real reason why I booked us the stay—that Quinn was contemplating divorce but had no clue I was aware of that fact—was strong, but I stopped myself. I didn’t want him to declare us a lost cause before we’d even begun.
“And do you know who that is?” I asked instead, my breath barely a whisper.
Grant placed his hands behind his back and shrugged. “Now that I know he didn’t fill out his own tests, I can’t be sure of anything regarding who he is.”
“I know him. I answered how he would have.”
“You can’t know that for certain.” He shook his head. “We may know our partners for our whole lives it seems, but there will always be surprises. Things you can’t anticipate for because you’ve never been in that situation before. I’m guessing he has never been asked some of the questions that are on my tests, and that’s for a reason. They’re trigger questions, words and scenarios to cut through the surface and sink deep into what the person really, truly wants. Without his own hand penning them, I’ll have to play it off the cuff, and only use what I learn from my interactions with him.”
I sucked in a deep breath. “Can you do that?”
“Are you doubting my reputation?” He smirked at me.
“No. Not at all.”
He gave me a firm nod. “Good. Now,” he said, tossing his head toward the canvas. “Throw.”
My brain calculated how terribly I would destroy his painting by not throwing the paint as elegantly as he had, or how I might miss and cover him in the bright orange goop instead, or how I could slip and spill it all over myself.
Loosen up, he’d said.
Whatever it took.
I gripped the full cup in my hands—throwing paint on a canvas would probably be the least crazy thing I did during our stay here. I let it fly. It soared through the air in front of me, hitting the canvas with a loud smack, the orange color bursting across the center like an explosion of the setting sun. The color dominated the blue but left enough of it peeking underneath its drips to border it, making it look three-dimensional.
Grant took a step back and tilted his head, his fingers on his chin. “Brilliant.”
“You think?”
“Absolutely. Look at it. The color and shape were exactly what it needed.” He smiled at me, dropping to a crouch to grab two more paint filled cups. “Shall we continue?”
A slow grin spread on my lips before I took the cup without hesitation. “After you.”
He tossed his paint in a zigzag motion across the entire canvas. “So, tell me how you two met.”
“We were both running late to school, and he hadn’t realized I was coming up behind him. He hit me in the nose with his elbow while opening the door.” I tossed my paint up higher, causing it to land in a slope that ran down the paper even slower.
“Did he break it?”
“No,” I said, laughing.
“That’s all it took, huh?”
I nodded. “Yes. One hit and I was a goner.”
“That sounds like something an addict would say,” Grant joked and picked up a yardstick, dipping the end of it in yellow paint before swinging it like a baseball bat toward the wall. The little splats of paint freckled the large orange sun I had put in its center.
“I suppose you could say that was how I felt.” Being with Quinn was addicting—all-consuming. I had never wanted to be away from him. His energy simply resonated with mine and then set it on fire. Every place he touched lit me up like a fuse, and there was nothing I had ever craved more than his kiss. That’s how we’d ended up with Blaire—unable to wait, unable to withstand the flames that licked our bodies when we came together.
“And now?” Grant asked after I’d remained silent too long.
I swallowed hard. The desire was still there—despite the fact that I knew he was considering an out—as well as that crackling of electricity whenever I set eyes on him. The incredibly sexy boy I’d fallen in love with had grown into one hell of a man who never looked better than when he was playing the role of daddy to our daughter. Just the memory of it sent a flare of heat between my thighs, but the realization of how…frazzled we’d been around each other lately cooled me right down.
“It’s there.” I nodded. “But we’ve been…there is something different these past few months. I think he may have realized he only married me because of Blaire.” I gasped as the last words tumbled out of my mouth, never having uttered them so distinctly to another soul before now.
“It’s all right, Tara.” He motioned to the area around him. “Safe space. Remember?” He pressed his lips together. “You’re not alone in this. Any good man—and I could tell within seconds that Quinn’s a good man—will have felt what you’re feeling, even if he doesn’t know why or where it’s coming from. Don’t place all that on yourself. It’s unfair.”
“Well,” I said, sighing. “He didn’t secure us spots at a prestigious resort with access to
the cupid equivalent.” I chuckled at his shocked expression from my name for him.
“I am not cupid.” He shook his head but grinned. “Everyone who comes here is already so sure they’re with their true love. They just want to test their boundaries. I can’t help it if not everyone passes the tests they were so eager to take.”
The familiar weight settled on my chest and squeezed. What if Quinn and I didn’t make it out of here the same? Isn’t that what you want? For things to change?
Yes.
No.
I wanted to feel it again—the unfiltered passion that had gotten lost somewhere between preschool and college. Wanted to know it was still there, that my Quinn was still there, and I wanted to remind him who he married. Who he fell in love with all those years ago. I hadn’t been myself in a long time, more mom than wife, and because of that, I could almost understand his actions. But that didn’t mean I had to throw in the towel. I would fight to show him who I was, and if at the end he wanted to move on then at least I would know for certain he left the real me.
“You don’t give him near enough credit. You know that, right?” Grant said as if he’d been reading my thoughts. The insight was unnerving, and I tilted my head.
“Everything you’ve said to me today, in just one session…you’re so sure you are the problem—the burden on him his whole life. Tell me, Tara, has he ever given you a reason to believe this? Or is it because you yourself have contemplated the thoughts in the opposite capacity?”
I sucked in a sharp breath, the tears I’d stopped earlier returning. “Honestly?”
“Please.”
“I’m not ready to talk about that yet.” And I truly wasn’t. If Grant knew so soon what I had seen—my husband strolling into a divorce lawyer’s office—he might say it was too late for us. And I refused to believe that.
Quinn had never been anything but good to me. And, sure, I’d had thoughts about other men before but nothing I’d ever wanted to act on and no one in particular—just the bypassing curiosity of what it was like to sleep with more than one man in your life. But it never bothered me enough to let it go beyond the fleeting idea. Still, if those thoughts had appeared in my head, who was to say they hadn’t in his?
“Fair enough,” he said. “Just know I can’t properly help you without all the facts.” He pressed his lips together. “For now, I suggest you treat this vacation for what it really is.” He dipped the yardstick in lavender paint and swung it like a bat again.
“And that is?”
One more swing and then he looked at me. “A chance to reconnect. And push each other.” He stepped closer to me, his hand on my shoulder. “Discover if what you’re fighting for is still there.”
I nodded and forced back the tears in my eyes.
“Go. I’ll have to reconfigure the fantasy I’d chosen for you, but you’ll still experience the first one tomorrow.”
Anticipation filtered through my blood, making my head rush. “Tomorrow.”
“Time is of the essence, Tara.”
“Right,” I said and glanced at his wall. “Thanks for letting me contribute.”
He stopped me as I was halfway out his door. “Contribute? You made it. You don’t give yourself enough credit either.”
I gave him a soft smile and shut the door behind me, determined to open my heart and mind to Quinn like Grant had said. Because with the first fantasy tomorrow, we were about to find out if we could act like kids again, or if this old married couple had lost the flames in their fire.
4
Quinn
“Tara, if you’re ready Jessica will take you down to prepare.” Anderson stood outside our doorway, his arms neatly folded behind his back.
We’d just finished a quiet lunch on the balcony connected to our suite, and it had at least been less awkward than the past few months of meals we’d stumbled through together.
“Is it time?” Tara asked, her voice pinching the way it always did when she got nervous. Her anxiousness vibrated off of her and settled deep in my core.
Damn. Now we were both wound up. We’d been married for sixteen years and together longer than that, how could we be nervous about this?
Well, at least we were on the same page for the first time in months.
“Yes, as long as you feel ready.” Anderson shifted his weight as a pretty brunette bounded up behind him. She glanced up at him, a smile playing on her lips. Anderson held his strictly professional stance, but a flash behind his eyes said he had a thing for Jessica. I cocked an eyebrow at him, trying to convey a silent message that he could loosen up around us with no worries.
“Hi, Tara!” She stuck out her hand, and Tara uncrossed her arms from around her hips for the first time since Anderson asked her if she was ready. “I’m Jessica. Let’s roll.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, motioning toward the hallway, the gesture so confident and free it reminded me of my Blaire.
Tara wrung her hands, and I reached out to her, pinning her with my gaze. “Hey,” I whispered in her ear when she allowed me to pull her to my chest. “This is supposed to be fun, remember? We’re not about to do a gladiator reality show. Breathe.”
A loud exhale puffed against my chest, and her shoulders relaxed a fraction under my touch. The move would’ve looked small to the two staff members witnessing our embrace, but to me? It was a miraculous movement. She’d been nothing but tense around me for months, and I didn’t have a clue how to set her mind at ease because I didn’t know the source of the tension. I hoped this trip would be the first step into many more of these moves, her coming back to herself, and coming back to me.
I gently nudged her and caressed her cheek with my hand, holding her gaze. Her eyes were dark brown and deep and had the ability to suck me in and never let go. She hadn’t let me just look into them for more than a few seconds lately and all I wanted was to return to the silent conversations we’d had in our earlier years—where she’d just let me hold her and tell her everything my heart felt without opening my mouth.
She blinked before I got too deep, and turned out of my embrace, a nervous laugh on her lips. “See you soon?” She asked it like a question instead of the statement it should’ve been.
Did she think there was a shot in hell I wouldn’t show up?
How far apart have we drifted, honey?
“Great!” Jessica said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The girl looked more excited than my wife did, and it was her fantasy we were about to undergo.
I shook my head as I watched them walk down the hallway, unable to keep my eyes from trailing to Tara’s beautiful ass. The woman was even more gorgeous than she had been when I’d met her all those years ago, and that was pretty damn hard to top. A hot need flared in my gut, twisting until it dominated my mind.
Images from our past—times when I’d spent hours worshiping her against the wall of our bedroom, our hands over each other’s mouths to keep from waking the baby up who slept soundly in the next room—flashed behind my eyes and an ache settled deep in my chest.
I cherished those memories, but there weren’t near as many as there should be. Though it was hard to complain when I had thousands of other memories that were just as valuable—watching Blaire take her first steps as she rushed into Tara’s arms, or the first time she realized she loved to paint, or her first dance, Tara fluffing her lime green homecoming dress around her sparkling shoes.
My heart once again did that thing where it felt too full for my chest. I was a lucky bastard, and while I hadn’t been able to devote as much time to Tara as I would’ve liked lately, that was all about to change. This resort was our chance, and I wasn’t going to blow it.
“Sir?” Anderson’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I blinked slowly before setting eyes on him.
“Please, dude, stop with the sirs. It’s Quinn. Just Quinn. And you can relax around us. We’re not the type of people who get off on being waited on hand and foot.” I quickly raised my hands in defense. “No offense to y
our profession. Just seems like you might enjoy relaxing a bit, and you can with us.”
He surveyed me for a few moments as if taking some kind of moral inventory. Finally, he pressed his lips together and nodded, releasing his hands from behind his back with a shrug. “All right,” he said. “I never know who will like what.”
I grinned. “That’s much better.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Now, tell me. What’s in store for me?”
He shook his head. “Can’t tell you. This one is Tara’s fantasy. But I do have to take you downstairs to get ready.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Get ready for…”
The sentence hung between us, and he left it there, turning on his heels. I followed, ignoring the stupid nerves filling my head with the fear of the unknown. Something I wasn’t a fan of. If it made Tara any kind of happy, though, it would be beyond worth it.
An hour later and Anderson had shoved me through the doors of the resort’s nightclub with nothing more than a good luck as preparation. Well, that, and the entirely new look his team had fastened me with.
My once shaggier blond hair was now trimmed ultrashort on the sides but left long on the top, and the scruffy beard I’d all but forgotten about sporting was now trimmed up into a perfect goatee.
Gone was my usual jeans and T-shirt combo I’d donned for the last…forever of my life. Now I wore a pair of black leather pants, a distressed—softer than I’d ever felt—red long sleeved T, and heavy motorcycle boots. While I had questioned every choice Anderson and his team made—knowing this wasn’t my style at all—I kind of secretly liked it. I mean, hell, they could’ve thrown in an actual Harley to take for a spin too. By the time they let me appraise myself in the mirror, I almost looked like a completely different man.
“Is this what she wants?” I’d asked Anderson, adjusting the pants that were borderline too tight.
“It’s not about what she wants,” he’d said. “It’s about the fantasy. Don’t you remember the thrill of wanting a stranger?” He’d whispered so his team wouldn’t hear.
Intimacy Page 3
