The King Next Door

by Maureen Child

  “Yeah, he went back to sleep.” Griffin scrubbed both hands over his face and told himself to just say it. Get it out into the open. Get it over with.

  “I heard what he said to you,” Nicole told him softly and waved one hand toward the baby monitor on the bedside table.

  He took a deep breath, nodded and said, “Good. Then I won’t have to explain.”

  “Griffin…”

  “Look, it’s not fair to put Connor through this,” he said, stalking toward the dresser and yanking open the drawers. As he tugged on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he looked over his shoulder at her and had to fight the urge to strip and get back in bed with her. More warning signs, when he was actually considering allowing his body to rule his mind. Wasn’t going to happen.

  “You’re right.” Nicole pulled the sheet and quilt up over her breasts, then let her hands fall into her lap. Swinging her hair out of her face, she gave him a smile that he didn’t deserve. “We shouldn’t have let it go on this long, Griffin.”

  “No, it’s not that—” It was exactly that, but he didn’t like hearing her say it. He tried to read her eyes, but the moonlight wasn’t sharp enough to define the shadows he saw in those blue depths. Maybe that was for the best, he thought. Maybe he didn’t want to know how she really felt, because then, leaving would be even harder.

  “Connor’s a little boy who wants a daddy,” she said, lifting one shoulder in a casual shrug. “He’s had fun with you. It’s only natural he’d start to think of you in that way.”

  Didn’t seem to be bothering her as much as it was bothering him, Griffin thought.

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “I know that, Griffin.” She lifted one hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Just like I know you don’t have to stage an escape from the house in the middle of the night. There’s no reason for you to feel guilty.”

  He stopped what he was doing and realized she was right. An escape was exactly what he’d been trying for. And as much as he’d like to deny it, the only explanation was that he’d panicked, pure and simple. He’d wanted to go fast, to avoid hurting Nicole and Connor any more than he already had.

  Hell, he’d wanted to avoid racking up more pain himself.

  But there was no easy out here, he thought, gaze locked with Nicole’s.

  “Relax, Griffin,” she said, a small, sad smile curving her mouth. “I’m not going to weep and wail and beg you not to go.”

  Why the hell not?

  “We had our fling, and now it’s over, right?”

  He rested one hand on his chest and rubbed a throbbing ache there. It didn’t help.

  “Get some sleep, Griffin,” she said. “We’ll take care of the rest in the morning.”

  Ten

  In the morning, he was gone.

  Nicole found the note on top of a pillow and blanket Griffin had left stacked on the end of the couch where he’d slept after walking out of the room they had been sharing. The note was short and somewhat less than sweet.

  I went into the office. Will be back this evening. If you need anything, call.

  “If I need anything?” she whispered before crumpling the note in her hand. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to distract herself from the urge to cry again. If she needed anything. All she really needed was—no. Never mind. She wouldn’t go there again, not even in her own mind.

  Nicole had spent most of the lonely night alternately crying and silently berating herself. She had done this. She had gone and fallen in love with a man who had run the moment things got complicated.

  Her heart ached and her eyes burned from too little sleep and too many tears. Idiot. That’s what she was. Because it wasn’t only that she had allowed herself to fall in love with Griffin King, even knowing it wasn’t safe. The worst part was that she had begun to believe.

  Stupid, she knew, but that was what hurt the most. In spite of everything, even knowing that Griffin wasn’t a forever kind of guy, Nicole had allowed herself to begin to believe in the fantasy of the two of them being together.

  She ran one hand across the pillow he had used the night before, and then curled her fingers into her palm. She wasn’t going to fall apart. Wasn’t going to cry anymore, either. Because it wasn’t only her pain she had to be concerned with now.

  There was Connor to think about, and that’s what she was most furious about. Deluding herself into believing in a fantasy was one thing. She was a grown-up and would eventually get over the misery she’d brought down on her own head.

  But Connor was just a baby. Not even three years old. When he loved, it was with his whole heart and he expected to be loved in return the same way. He was too young to know about betrayal or disappointment or what it was like for someone in your life to suddenly not be in it anymore.

  At least Connor’s father had left him before he was born. You couldn’t miss something you’d never known. But Griffin was different.

  She couldn’t explain it to Connor; she could only hope that at some point, he’d forget about the man he’d loved enough to want for a daddy.

  She hoped they would both forget.

  But for the moment, the death of her dreams was raw and so painful, every breath drawn felt like a victory. She didn’t have time to wallow, though.

  So she went through the motions, getting her son up and dressed for the day. Then she carried Connor into the kitchen for breakfast. He whipped his head from side to side, looking around the empty room in confusion.

  “Where Griff go?”

  This was all her fault, she thought as she looked into her son’s shining eyes. Her own pain she could handle, but knowing that her son would miss Griffin tore at her.

  “Griffin had to go away, sweetie.” She gave him some strawberries and a small cup of yogurt.

  Connor banged his spoon on the chair tray. “Where? Connor go, too?”

  “Not this time, baby,” she soothed.

  “Wanna go!”

  His bottom lip quivered, and Nicole’s heart twisted in her chest.

  “We’ll see,” she said and silently cursed herself for using the stock parental phrase that usually translated into a big fat no.

  Meanwhile, they’d get through breakfast, and once Connor was at preschool, Nicole would move their things back to their own house. Lucas would hurry up the finish work if she insisted, and she wasn’t above using the threat of a lawsuit to make sure of it.

  Once they were back where they belonged, she assured herself as she sipped at her coffee, she and Connor would both begin to heal.

  *

  A few days later, Nicole still hadn’t seen Griffin, but her house was her own again and Katie and Rafe were back in town.

  “I still think Rafe should beat him up,” Katie said from her seat at Nicole’s new kitchen table.

  “And I appreciate the support,” Nicole told her as she set a cup of coffee down in front of her best friend.

  Connor was napping, the house was quiet and Nicole was still carrying around an icy ball of regret in the center of her chest. But true to her vow, she hadn’t cried since the night Griffin had walked away from her. It had been close a time or two, but she’d sucked it up and swallowed the pain, forcing it down into a corner of her heart, where it continued to simmer and churn.

  “We’ve talked about this a dozen times since you got home,” Nicole reminded her friend.

  “And I’m still frustrated because you won’t let me sic Rafe on Griffin. Trust me,” Katie said, “he’d be happy to help.”

  Nicole laughed a little and braced both elbows on the tabletop. “I bet. He’s probably been getting an earful from you every day.”

  Katie smiled and shrugged. “He has. Hey, that’s the husband’s job. To listen when his wife needs to rant about a scum-sucking, no-good, lying rat of a man who hurt her best friend.”

  Nicole sighed and reached for one of the dark chocolate raspberry cookies Katie had brought with her. She took a bite and barely noticed the amazing flavors explodi
ng on her tongue.

  “Again,” she said, “appreciate the support, but Griffin didn’t do this to me. I did.”

  “Bull.”

  Shaking her head, Nicole said, “He never once pretended that what we had was anything but temporary.” Hard to say it out loud, but maybe she needed to hear it all again, too. “I’m the one who built fantasies in the air. I’m the one who fell in love. It’s my own damn fault, Katie. You can’t blame Griffin for it, as much as I’d like to.”

  Katie sighed and snatched up a cookie. Taking a huge bite and chewing as if she were biting through steel chips, she asked, “How’s Connor dealing?”

  Here was where the guilt rolled in.

  “He still asks for Griffin. Wants to go see him. And wakes up at night crying for him.” Which pretty much described how Nicole was feeling, too. Except for the crying. She wouldn’t cry. She refused to spend one more tear on the man she’d loved and lost.

  Katie dropped one hand to the slight swell of her belly. “I’m so sorry this all turned out so badly. I hate knowing Connor’s so upset.”

  “Me, too,” Nicole said softly. “But it’s getting better.” And maybe if she said that often enough, it would even be true eventually.

  “Well.” Katie looked around the redone kitchen and said, “Even though they sneaked this in on you, I have to say King Construction really does nice work. The kitchen’s gorgeous.”

  “It really is.” Nicole’s gaze swept the room. “I know I should still be furious at Griffin for wangling all of this, but I do love the kitchen. It’s exactly as I always imagined it.”

  And every time she stepped into the room, she remembered the man who had arranged it for her. Nicole wondered how long that would last. How long would his memory be stamped on her house? Her heart? Depressingly enough, she figured it would be only a day or two short of forever.

  Needing a change of subject desperately, Nicole said, “You still haven’t told me about Italy.”

  Katie looked at her, reached across the table to take her hand and smiled as she squeezed briefly. “Right. Okay then, let me tell you about Tuscany…”

  As Katie talked, Nicole pushed thoughts of Griffin aside and concentrated solely on her friend’s voice. With a little effort, she told herself firmly, every day would get better. And soon, Griffin would no longer be front and center in her mind.

  She hoped.

  *

  “Janice,” Griffin snapped into the phone, “when Garrett calls, put him right through.”

  “I always do,” she replied, and he heard the stiffness in her voice.

  No surprise there. His assistant hadn’t been happy when he ended his vacation early. Especially since he’d returned in a mood that made Jack the Ripper look congenial.

  “Fine,” he said, scraping one hand across his face, “just…bring me the plan for the museum job.”

  “Right away.” She hung up, and Griffin set the phone back in its cradle with a deliberate softness.

  If he hadn’t, he might have been tempted to throw the damn thing across the room. He felt like a man on the edge all the time now.

  “Probably because you’re not sleeping,” he muttered. When he left Rafe and Katie’s house, he’d moved straight into a hotel. He hadn’t been able to stay there, right next door to Nicole and Connor. Not without going to see them, and that wouldn’t have helped a damn thing.

  So for three days now, he’d spent most of his time at the office, and when exhaustion forced him to leave, he went to the penthouse suite at the Beachside. There he sat out on the balcony, stared into the darkness and wished he was with Nicole.

  For all the good that did him.

  There was no going back.

  He leaned deeper into his chair and glanced around the interior of his office. It was practically a duplicate of his twin’s. He and Garrett had adjoining offices, with a bathroom, complete with shower, separating the rooms. A lot of times he’d found himself working around the clock and being damned grateful for a shower and a change of clothes here at the office.

  Plush, burgundy-leather furniture dotted the room. Framed family photos took up most of one wall. On the opposite wall was a flat-screen TV, dark now, and a few awards King Security had been given over the course of the years. There was also a wet bar for entertaining clients. Back in the day, he and Garrett would be shouting back and forth between their offices, laughing, talking about the job.

  But Garrett was with his wife, and all Griffin had was an overdose of silence.

  His business was in great shape. It was only his life that sucked at the moment.

  But that could change. All he had to do was pick up the phone and make a call. He could lose himself on a succession of dates at five-star restaurants with gorgeous women. He could reclaim the life he knew and let go of the whole maturity thing.

  “Mature’s overrated anyway,” he muttered. “Let Garrett and the others do the one-woman thing. Somebody’s gotta pick up the slack.”

  He actually reached for the phone before he stopped and let his hand fall to his desk. He wasn’t interested in a date. Hell, he wasn’t even interested in finding a new home, now that his Realtor had sold his condo.

  Nothing interested him, and that was the truth.

  Not a new house. Not a job. Nothing.

  Which only fed the frustration and anger swimming through him.

  His office door flew open and crashed into the wall behind it. Griffin jumped to his feet and faced his cousin.

  “Rafe, what the hell?”

  Rafe King stood in the doorway, feet braced and hands curled into fists. “I want to know why you screwed everything up so badly that all my wife does is tell me to kick your ass.”

  Griffin looked past his cousin at Janice. His assistant stood by, shaking her head, without the slightest hint of surprise on her face. That came, he supposed, with experience working with the King family. Tempers were fast and volatile and usually drained away just as quickly.

  As for Griffin, he wasn’t surprised to see his cousin, either. Hell, he’d been expecting Rafe for days now. Might as well get it over with.

  “At least close the damn door.”

  Rafe did, then turned back to him. “What the hell, dude? Nicole? You had to go there? Really?”

  Rafe’s temper had already eased back enough that punching didn’t seem to be on the menu. A shame, really. Griffin could have used a good fight to blow off steam. Instead, still irritated, still frustrated, Griffin came around his desk and leaned back to sit on the edge. “Didn’t plan it that way.”

  “Well, of course not,” Rafe said, perching beside him. “Clearly there was no plan at all. Would’ve been good, though.”

  “Yeah, would’ve.” Griffin glanced at his cousin. “Tell you the truth? Don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

  “Yeah, I know how that feels,” Rafe admitted. “The minute I met Katie, I couldn’t think of anything but—” He stopped and shrugged. “You know.”

  “All too well,” Griffin admitted, then asked, “Did Lucas tell you the story of Nicole’s kitchen?”

  “He did.” Rafe frowned. “Moron’s lucky Nicole didn’t sue him. Us.” He shook his head. “You can’t just ignore a customer’s signed contract, you know?”

  “Wasn’t his idea,” Griffin told him and felt a twinge of guilt for the crap Lucas had no doubt been getting from Rafe. “That’s on me, too.”

  His cousin snorted a laugh. “Busy couple weeks for you, wasn’t it?”

  “You could say that.” Griffin shook his head, too. Hell, the last couple of weeks were sort of a blur. He’d been so far off his normal stride, he was stumbling now, trying to get back to it. At least that was what he told himself. It wasn’t, he assured himself, that he didn’t want to go back to the way things were.

  Of course he did. What he was feeling now was residual lust, that’s all. He’d get over it. He always got over the current woman in his life when he was ready to move on. And he was ready, damn it.<
br />
  First, though, he had to deal with his cousin and whatever family crap was going to rain down on him. “So,” he asked, “you come to fight?”

  “That was my original thought,” Rafe said as he folded his arms over his chest. “But I’m over it.” He looked at Griffin. “The question is, are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Over it. Nicole, I mean.”

  “I will be.” He sounded certain. Too bad he wasn’t feeling it.

  “Yeah,” Rafe said with a chuckle. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “Y’know,” Griffin pointed out, “the way you almost screwed up your chance with Katie doesn’t exactly make you the big relationship expert of the family.”

  “Key word there being almost,” Rafe said and stood up. “I’m not going to give you advice. Hell, you wouldn’t listen even if I did.”

  “True.”

  “I am going to tell you if you walk away you’ll be kicking yourself for the rest of your life.”

  Griffin’s head snapped up and he fixed a narrowed gaze on his cousin. “Stay out of this, Rafe. Seriously.”

  He held up both hands. “Oh, I’m out. Trust me. You’re on your own here.”

  “Good.” Annoyance flared to life inside him, and Griffin stood up, too.

  “Now, I’m going home to have some of the dark chocolate and meringue cookies Katie was making when I left.” He grinned. “Which you, by the way, will never taste.”

  “Bastard.”

  “Damn straight.” Whistling, Rafe left the office, and as he went out, Janice scuttled in, carrying a manila file folder.

  “Here are the details on the museum job.”

  “Thanks,” Griffin muttered and snatched the file from her. She left a moment later, and Griffin was alone again.

  He really hated being alone.

  *

  He left work early.

  No point in being there if he couldn’t damn well think. Instead, he went to the beach. Yeah, he hated crowds, but lately he’d discovered he hated being alone more.

  The sea wind rushed at him as he walked along the ocean’s edge, bare feet just brushing past the lacy slide of the water onto the sand. The sun was hot, the sand damp and chill, and the sounds and smells around him invaded in a rush.