Desire: A Contemporary Romance Box Set

by R. R. Banks

  And I find myself wondering if I'm ever going to feel anything remotely like that in my life.

  “We sat at that table the night my father and his partner founded their company,” he says. “We had dinner to celebrate them opening the doors.”

  “What does your father's company do?”

  “Technology,” he replies. “A lot of research and development. They do a lot in both the medical field, and unfortunately, they do a lot in a lot of defense weapons systems.”

  I laugh softly. “Defense weapons systems?”

  “Missiles,” he says. “Smart bombs. The technology of death, I call it. The company scores huge government contracts to dream up better, more efficient ways of killing people.”

  “Medical and weapons,” I say. “Those sound like two opposite ends of the spectrum.”

  “Tell me about it,” he says. “It was always a bone of contention between us. Anyway, let's toast.”

  He raises his glass and I stare at him for a moment before realizing I should raise mine as well. I pick it up and hold it like he is – and can't help but feel clumsy and awkward. I feel like a fish out of water. Eric can navigate the waters of normal people – normal rich people at that – with a practiced ease. Of course, he grew up in this sort of society and I didn't.

  And as I look at the faces of the people around me, I suddenly don't know if I'll ever feel comfortable operating in normal society.

  “To new beginnings,” he says.

  Just from books I've read, I know that I'm expected to repeat his toast then then clink my glass against his, so that's what I do. And of course, I hit his glass a little too hard. It makes a loud ringing sound and the glasses are so delicate, I fear I've broken them. Eric laughs softly, but his smile is sincere and not unkind.

  “We'll work on that,” he says.

  As I sip my water, I take a quick glance around, I can't help but feel exposed. Like everybody in that restaurant knows I'm an imposter. Just some poor, uneducated girl taken off a cult compound and dropped into a fancy dress. I've never felt so out of place before in my life and I feel like people are staring at me. Judging me. And just for a moment, I find myself wanting to be back in the small cabin I shared with Ruth. I feel a longing for the comfort of those rough, wooden walls, and the feel of that hard, lumpy mattress beneath me.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I swallow down the lump in my throat and give him a weak nod. “I'm just feeling like I don't belong in here,” I admit. “Like I'm out of place.”

  He holds my gaze and then takes my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You're not out of place,” he says. “This is your home. You belong here. And you let me know if anybody says otherwise, okay?”

  I nod and feel a knot of emotion constricting inside of me. I don't know what it is I'm feeling, so I stuff it down. I'll try to unravel that knot later. My first experience in a fancy restaurant. I want to savor every moment of this night.

  The waitress comes back and sets a plate down between us. She gives me a look like a sneer and then turns to Eric, her face brightening immediately. I have no idea why she would have given me such a dirty look and I sit back, my feelings a little hurt, feeling even more out of place than before.

  “Shrimp scampi and stuffed mushrooms,” she says. “Enjoy these and I'll put in the order for your main courses, Dr. Galloway.”

  “Thank you, Lacy,” he says. “Also, I would appreciate it if you apologized to Calee. I appreciate your outstanding service, as always. But I don't know why you felt the need to give her such a nasty look. She is my guest tonight and I will not tolerate that sort of behavior.”

  “Excuse me?” the waitress asks, her mouth hanging open.

  He gives her a long, hard look. “Do I need to speak with Dominic about this?”

  A look of fear crosses the woman's face as she slowly turns to me and clears her throat.

  “I apologize for my behavior,” she says slowly. “It was uncalled for and I was out of line.”

  “Thank you, Lacy.” Eric says.

  The woman's face is a bright shade of red and she gives Eric another look, her expression one of absolute heartbreak. She lowers her eyes and leaves the table without another word.

  “I'm sorry for her behavior,” Eric says and takes a sip of his wine. “You didn't deserve that.”

  The emotions swirling around within me are so fast and violent, they feel like a tornado. I can't keep up with them, let alone organize them into any sort of coherent thought. Nobody has ever stood up for me before like that. Nobody has ever defended me. Ever. And even though I knew the woman didn't mean a single word of her apology, the fact that Eric made her say the words means more to me than I can even say.

  “Thank –”

  Eric holds up his hand again to cut me off. “She was out of line,” he says. “You don't need to thank me for making her do the right thing.”

  “I think she has a crush on you,” I say.

  “That's unfortunate for her,” he replies. “I'd never date somebody so petty and rude.”

  There's a moment of silence between us – mostly because I don't know what to say. Everything is all so new to me and I feel like some primitive cave person stepping out into the world for the first time.

  “This smells wonderful,” I say, pointing at the plate. “What is it?”

  The mood immediately seems to lighten as Eric puts some of the appetizer onto my plate. Setting it down in front of me, he points at the mushrooms.

  “Those are stuffed with crab, cheese, and done in a light wine sauce,” he says. “And the other, the shrimp scampi, is amazing. The best in San Diego. You're going to love it.”

  I pick up my fork and use it to cut one of the mushrooms in half. Spearing it with the tines, I pop it into my mouth and revel in the explosion of flavor in my mouth. I've never had anything so different and so amazing. I chew slowly, savoring every moment of it.

  “Good, right?” Eric says.

  “That might be the best thing I've ever eaten,” I say.

  He laughs. “Well, pace yourself,” he says. “There's a lot more food to come.”

  “If it's half as good as this mushroom, I might just die.”

  He picks up his glass and looks at me over the rim, something sparkling in his eyes. There's a curious look on his face and one I can't quite interpret.

  “I certainly hope not,” he says. “There's a lot more I want to share with you.”

  As I look at him in the soft glow of the candles on the table, I feel my heart swell. And I realize that there is a lot more I want to share with him too.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I feel absolutely stuffed, but at the same time, I want to keep eating. Everything I taste is better than what I tasted before it and I just want to keep going until I burst.

  “I can honestly say, this is the best meal I've ever had in my life,” I say.

  Eric drains the last of his wine. “What was normal fare out there on the Ark?” he asks. “Biscuits and gruel?”

  I laugh. “Not exactly,” I reply. “The Shepherds would regularly hunt and bring in meat for the community. We had a garden where we grew a lot of our own fruits and vegetables. And we supplemented that with things from town.”

  “Sounds very Little House on the Prairie,” he says.

  “Little House on the Prairie?” I ask, thoroughly confused. “What's that?”

  “I don't suppose you had cable television out there, did you?”

  I shake my head. “No, Raymond liked to tell people television was the work of Satan and watching it imperiled their souls.”

  “Given some of the crap on TV today, I'm not convinced it's not actually the work of Satan,” he says and laughs.

  The waitress drops off a plate with the dessert Eric had ordered and two cappuccinos, departing without another word – or even so much as a glance in my direction.

  “This is a chocolate molten cake with a port wine glaze,” Eric announces.


  “Let me guess,” I say with a smile. “The best in all of San Diego?”

  “You know it.”

  I take a spoonful and pop it into my mouth, my eyes almost bursting immediately. I chew it slowly, savoring every flavor that fills my mouth.

  “Oh my, God,” I say. “That –”

  “Let me guess,” Eric says. “It's the best thing you've ever tasted?”

  We laugh together and as I look at him, I feel my heart swelling again. This has been the absolute best night of my life. Of course, given what I lived through, that bar was set pretty low. But still, this whole experience has been amazing.

  I look over at the table Eric had pointed out to me earlier. The same couple is still there with the same look of pure love on their faces. I bite back the feeling of jealousy that wells up within me and turn my thoughts to something else. Something Eric had said while we were still in Fort Collins. That, combined with the way he talked about his parents earlier made me curious.

  And maybe it was my new experiences making me feel a little bolder than I normally am, but I had the overwhelming need to know more about him. There is a depth to the man that I want to explore. I can see the darkness inside of him and want to know what caused it. There is so much about him that is still so mysterious to me and I want to unravel it all.

  “Tell me something,” I say.

  “Anything.”

  “When we were still back in Colorado,” I start. “You told me that you are an expert in beating yourself up. Why is that?”

  I can see the walls around him going up and the curtain coming down over his eyes. It's not hard to see that he's a man who doesn't enjoy talking about himself. A man who doesn't like to open up and let himself feel vulnerable by sharing his emotions or experiences.

  Which, for some reason, makes me want to part that veil of darkness inside of him all the more.

  “You know all about the horrible things that made up my life,” I say. “It's time for you to start sharing some of yours. It's only fair. What is it that you beat yourself up for so often?”

  He sighs and takes a sip of his cappuccino. Setting his cup down he leans forward on the table, resting his chin in his hands.

  “I beat myself up for the men I lost overseas,” he says. “I couldn't save them all and there's some small part of me that thinks I should have been able to.”

  I sit back in my seat and cock my head, looking at him. “You were in the middle of a war,” I say. “People die in a war. That's not your fault.”

  “Yeah, well, that doesn't make seeing so many young guys die over there any easier.”

  “Unless you're God, there's no way getting around people dying, Eric.”

  A rueful smile touches his lips. “I'm a surgeon,” he says. “Haven't you heard that we're all predisposed to thinking we're God?”

  I laugh. “I haven't heard that, no,” I say. “But given your power over life and death, I can see why some might think they are.”

  “Exactly,” he replies.

  “But it's more than that,” I say. “Even I can see that there's something more burning a hole in your heart. Something you can't seem to forgive yourself for. What is it?”

  He sighs again and that dark shadow passes over his face. I see that haunted look in his eyes return and for a moment, he just looks – sad. Reaching out, I take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

  “It's okay,” I say. “You can talk to me.”

  Eric casts a glance over to that table and the darkness on his face deepens. He turns back to me and there is a grim air about him. He opens his mouth to speak and closes it again. And on his face, I see more emotion than I've ever seen from him.

  “The thing I beat myself up for the most is the fact that I am a disappointment to my parents.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because they – my father really – wanted me to follow him into the company,” he says. “Wanted me to succeed him at the top.”

  “Why didn't you?”

  “It wasn't for me,” he says. “I spent a lot of time there and the medical research side of the company is what really caught my attention. It's what fascinated me and really fired me up. I was young when I knew I wanted to be a doctor, not a corporate CEO. Which, of course, disappointed my father.”

  I can see the pain on his face, even now, years after the fact. But I honestly don't see how his parents could be disappointed in him. He's a surgeon. A military veteran. And a good man. And to me, that's what any parent would want the most – for their child to be a good person. But then, maybe I'm just naive.

  “Things got really heated when I started to voice my opposition to their military research and weapons development,” he said. “We started to argue more and more often about it. I think in a lot of ways, that was why I enlisted to begin with. As a giant fuck you to my father. I figured that if other people were going to die because of my family, then I should probably put myself in the crosshairs too. They died before we could reconcile. Hell, I don't even know if my father wanted to reconcile with me.”

  I squeeze his hand again and give him a small smile with all of the compassion and care I can muster. I can't imagine the burden he must be carrying around with him every day. It has to be painful.

  “I obviously don't know them, Eric,” I say. “But I can't imagine a world where they would really be disappointed in you. You're a surgeon. You save lives. You make people's lives better and you're a good man with a good heart.”

  I look down at my hand laying protectively over my stomach and smile. I look back up at him and see the emotion still upon his face.

  “I know that's all any parent can ask for,” I say. “If my child turns out to be half the person you are, I'll count myself fortunate.”

  There's a long moment of silence between us and I can tell that he's doing everything he can to keep his emotions under control. In that way, that need for control, Eric was a little like Raymond. Unlike Raymond though, Eric sought to oppress not others, only himself.

  “Thank you, Calee,” he finally says. “That means a lot.”

  I cast a quick glance to the loving couple at the table across the way and then look down at our hands, clasped together. Looking back up at him, I smile.

  “You're welcome.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Eric

  I stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows in my bedroom, looking out at the darkness of the sea. The silvery glow of the moonlight seems to make the crashing waves glow as they wash up on the shore. I'm reflecting on the night and can't help but smile. Everything was perfect. I haven't enjoyed a night like that with somebody in a long time.

  The feelings swirling around inside of me are intense and yet, I don't know what to do with them. It's obvious to me that I'm developing feelings for Calee. Deep, intense feelings. Feelings I didn't even know I'm capable of. The whole thing is taking me by surprise and leaving me feeling flat-footed and unsteady – things I'm not used to.

  I pride myself on my control. Control of my thoughts and emotions. Control of myself. And yet, when it comes to Calee, I don't feel like I have any control. I feel adrift. Lost at sea. Overwhelmed by the intensity of my feelings for her.

  But I know I can't give voice to them. Given her background, everything she's endured, I don't want to impose myself on her. I don't want her to think I'm only doing all of this to get something out of her. To get her into bed. I don't want her believing that I'm helping her just to control her – like Raymond did.

  I'm helping her because it's the right thing to do. And if there is one lesson I learned from my parents, it's that no matter what, you should always strive to do the right thing. Even if it hurts. And in this case, I know that the right thing is to not just help her reclaim her life, but to stuff all of my feelings for her down. Lock them away. And never let them see the light of day.

  There's a soft knock at my door. I look at my watch and then at the door, curious. I thought Calee had gone to be a little
while ago. I step away from the window and cross the room, opening the door to find her standing there, an inscrutable expression on her face.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  She nods. “I'm fine,” she says. “I couldn't sleep and saw your light on...”

  “Yeah, I'm not sleeping either,” I reply.

  She's dressed in the shorts and t-shirt I gave her earlier, and my eyes are drawn to the shapeliness of her legs and the fullness of her breasts outlined against the fabric of the shirt. I lick my lips and tear my eyes away, but she's looking straight at me, the small smile playing upon her lips telling me that she knew I was checking her out.

  Without a word, she steps forward and slides her hands around my waist. My breath catches in my throat as I look into her eyes and see nothing but desire. Acting on impulse, I lean down and press my lips to hers. Our kiss goes from soft and chaste to fiery and passionate in a matter of seconds. Our tongues dance in her mouth and I run my hands through her long dark hair.

  I lose myself in the kiss for a moment, but then reality comes rushing back and slaps me upside the head. I step back, feeling nearly out of breath and lightheaded. I look at Calee who looks disappointed.

  “I'm sorry,” I stammer. “I shouldn't have done that.”

  “Why?” she asks. “Don't you want to kiss me?”

  “I – I do,” I say. “Of course, I do. But I don't want you to feel like you have to do this. This isn't why I'm –”

  She steps into the room, closing the distance between us. Calee runs the palms of her hands up my chest, staring me in the eye.

  “I know that's not why you're doing this,” she says. “I realized that tonight at the restaurant. And that's not why I'm doing this either.”

  I shake my head. “Then why –”

  “Because I want to.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nods and gives me a small smile as she pulls me down into another kiss. It feels like a jolt of electricity shoots through my body as we kiss. She presses her body close to mine, grinding herself against my growing erection. Sliding my hands down her back, I give into her kiss and enjoy the feeling of letting go.