Walt sat through another beer and nursed his one drink while they talked about Jamaica before turning their conversation to sports to avoid the memories.
The ride to Monica’s apartment complex wasn’t long. Once there, Trent thanked his driver and offered to drive the next time they went out. Walt drove off with a wave and Trent walked over to the mailboxes. Only last names were listed on the boxes. He was damn happy her last name wasn’t Gonzalez or he’d have been knocking on doors half the night.
He found her name and apartment number with a grin. Between here and Seattle, Trent had turned into quite the investigator.
If the airplane thing doesn’t work out, I have new skills to exploit.
It was just before nine at night and the apartment complex was relatively quiet. He heard music playing from one of the upstairs units and more than one TV cluttering up the quiet. But there weren’t any obvious parties going on or loud fights spilling into the street.
He found Monica’s apartment and sucked in a deep breath before knocking on the door.
He heard the volume on the TV from inside go down. Good, she’s home.
When he didn’t hear her walking toward the door, Trent knocked again and stood back so she could see his face through the peephole.
“Go away, Trent,” she said through the closed door.
Damn. It didn’t occur to him that he’d find her only to be sent away.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Monica leaned her head against the door and closed her eyes.
“I shouldn’t have run off,” he said through the door. “Let me explain.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations.” And she’d just bullied her sister and Katie into leaving an hour before. Emotionally, she was exhausted. It didn’t help that last night’s wine reminded her of why she didn’t drink that much. “Just go.” She turned away from the door, ready to follow through with what she needed, which wasn’t to hash out anything with Trent tonight.
“Her name was Connie.”
Monica stopped.
“I’d flown her over to see me, to meet my parents since I thought I loved her enough to marry her. She was furious. Didn’t want to meet my family. And then she told me there was someone else.”
Monica brought her hand to her mouth. His words soaked in.
“I had no idea. I asked my parents to fly her back home. They never made it, Monica. The plane went down—”
Monica grabbed the door and opened it wide, stopping his painful flow of words.
Trent stood with his hands poised on either side of her door, his head down.
She tugged him inside her apartment, glanced around the outside to see if anyone had witnessed Trent’s explanation, and then closed the door.
He stood in place staring at her. The usual smile on his face was absent. “When John told me you were engaged, I ran.”
It took very few words to bring to light his swift departure and give Monica a reason to open the door of communication.
She tilted her head to the side and sighed. “Can I get you something to drink?”
He smiled now. “Coffee would be nice.”
She stepped around him and into the kitchen. Preparing the coffee gave her the equilibrium she needed to clear her head. Trent seemed to be waiting for her to say something, so she asked, “How did you and Connie meet?”
He sat on a stool and stared off at the wall. For a second, Monica wasn’t sure he was going to answer her question. “I was flying a lot. Personally overseeing some of the pilots we were using within the company. Connie was a flight attendant.”
“Did she work for you?”
“No,” he said with a quick shake of his head. “Domestic flights. Her main hub was in Chicago, but we only saw each other there once in the six months we dated. I’d join her all over the country, but not Chicago.”
“Because she was married?”
He winced. “Yeah. The night before the crash, I picked her up in Virginia and brought her home to meet the parents. It was a surprise. I thought women liked that stuff.” He offered a joyless laugh. “She wasn’t happy. It was then she told me there was someone in Chicago. I didn’t know the someone was a husband until after the crash.”
“How could you have known?”
“I realized later the signs were there.” He sounded disgusted with himself.
“But you loved her. Love is blind I’m told.”
“I thought I did.” Trent looked directly at Monica now, his eyes softened. “But I was wrong. If I had loved her then I would have mourned her. Sure, at first I was so damn mad and dead inside over my parents. Everyone told me it wasn’t my fault, but I was the one who asked my dad to fly her home. I couldn’t do it.” The words flew from his mouth.
“You blamed yourself. That’s normal.” The psych nurse in her was coming out.
“I missed my parents.” He paused, took a breath. “I never missed her. If I loved her, I would have missed her after the anger faded.”
“She screwed you over. It’s hard to care about someone like that.” Monica was mad for him.
He shook his head, as if shaking off what Monica was saying. “After, whenever I dated, or found myself attracted to a woman, I always made sure they knew I was temporary. I think the island helped me with that lifestyle. Vacationing women either do so with their husbands or their girlfriends. Very few married women take off with their friends until they’re hitting the cougar age.”
Monica laughed at that. “I can see the cougars going after you.”
He smiled at that, and Monica felt the hair on her arms go up. Ignoring his effect, she turned toward the coffee pot and poured him a cup.
She set it on the counter in front of him. When he took the cup, his fingers grazed hers and those upended hairs grew to tingles across her shoulders, up her neck, and down her spine.
She moved her hand away, but Trent kept hold of her with a soft grip.
Their eyes met and Monica’s lower lip trembled.
“I missed you,” he whispered. “Even when I thought you were someone else’s, I missed you.”
The lump in her throat was hard to swallow. “You can’t tell me you love me. We hardly know each other.”
“I don’t know what to call the feelings inside of me. But for the first time I want a chance to explore something more permanent than an island fling.”
Oh, damn… she did not need Trent to see her cry. On the one hand, she wanted to embrace him and give him a chance, and the other said they were doomed from the start so why put herself through more heartache. “People who go through what we did often have a connection because they survived something traumatic together. What you’re feeling might be fleeting.”
He was stroking the inside of her wrist. “It might.”
She stiffened.
“And it might not,” he added. “I had decided to leave the island before you and I were trapped in that cave, remember?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m fairly certain I would have needed to fly to LA soon after you returned.”
There were serious butterflies taking flight in her belly. “You probably would have called… to see if the sparks were still there.”
“Oh, they’re still there.”
He tugged her around the counter and ran a hand up her arm. “What about for you? Are they still there for you?”
“Fishing for a compliment, Barefoot?”
His hand tucked around her waist and pulled her between his spread legs. “Fishing for permission.”
She lifted her head and offered her lips, giving him all the permission he needed.
He was soft, sweet, and sensual as he kissed her. Those sparks flew with such bright light she had to close her eyes to contain them. His arms felt so secure as they drew her farther into him. His closed-mouth kisses had her opening to him with tiny licks of her tongue seeking his. Trent moaned, changed his angle, and deepened their connection.
He stood there, holding her, kissing her, forever. When
he came up for air, he murmured, “I missed you.”
She missed him, too, and the Ice Queen was legendary for flicking off lovers, never missing them. The need to warn him, to protect him had her pulling away. “Trent?”
He didn’t let her go far. His kiss lingered on her lips and chased tingles down her jaw.
“Wait,” she said, stopping him from moving too fast. “I’m a risk,” she said. “I suck at relationships.”
His lopsided grin made her melt. “Trying to scare me off?”
“Yeah. No. I think I should warn you. Monica Mann should come with a warning label. Caution, Ice Queen on board. I cut guys out when they get too close.” Everyone knew that about her.
Trent ran his hand down her back, and hesitated on her hip before moving back up. “Am I getting too close?”
“You already broke through the imaginary line,” she said.
He brought both arms up to hold her face with his hands. “Uncharted territory?”
She nodded, the sheer terror of knowing she didn’t want him to leave unsettled her.
“I can deal with that. I want to deal with that,” he said.
“I’m scared.” Her words were barely above a whisper.
“Oh, Monica. Standing outside the door and wondering if you were ever going to open it… that was scary. This.” He kissed her briefly. “This isn’t scary at all.”
“What if this, the physical, is all we are?”
He laughed at that and let her go. “We can abstain. Test your theory.”
Monica was positive a look of absolute horror passed over her face. “No sex?”
“Sure.”
“You’re serious.”
He seemed to be liking the idea as the seconds ticked by. “Yeah. Why not?”
Had she ever had a romantic relationship without sex? Not since high school, and those dates didn’t really count.
“I like kissing you,” she confessed.
“Kissing isn’t sex,” he said and placed a hand on her arm.
“So kissing and holding, but no sex.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah.”
“For how long?”
“Until you know this is more than just physical. Until you stop referring to yourself as the Ice Queen.”
Talk about uncharted territory. This was safer, somehow, and if their experiment didn’t work Monica would know that she hadn’t ruined him for other women.
She reached down and held his hand. “So, what do two people, who want to jump each other’s bones, but can’t, do on a Tuesday night?”
“I don’t know. What were you doing before I came over?”
“I had the TV on, but I was on the Internet.”
“Playing games?”
“No. I was searching for schools.”
The smile on his face fell. “You’re going to get your license back.”
She squeezed his arm. “I’m sure you’re right. I’m looking into going back to school, getting my masters in nurse practitioners. That way no one will ever be able to accuse me of working outside of my license again.”
He motioned toward the couch. “Show me.”
They walked to the couch and when she sat down beside Trent he pulled her into his side and looked over her shoulder as she showed him the different schools that offered NP classes. “At first I thought someplace close by. But I’m not going back to Pomona General. I can’t, not after all this.”
“So where are you thinking?”
“There are a couple places in San Francisco. I’m not sure if I’ll like living in the city and it’s so expensive.” She clicked the next page and Trent pointed at an East Coast location. “That’s close to our headquarters.”
Monica found herself grinning at him. “There’s always San Diego. Warm beaches. Sunshine.”
Trent clicked the page back to the East Coast selection. “Don’t be afraid of a little snow. Warm fires and hot cocoa. It’s an option.”
They spent the next couple of hours talking about schools, locations, all the while not having sex.
“I should get some sleep,” Monica finally said when it was close to midnight.
“That’s my cue, huh?”
Yet she didn’t want him to leave.
“I need to call a cab.”
“A cab?”
Trent itched the side of his face and glanced at the floor. “Yeah, I left my car at Joe’s.”
“The bar?”
“Yeah. Kind of a dive.”
“Very much a dive. What were you doing there?”
He still didn’t look at her. “I may have ‘accidentally’ run into Walt.”
“Accidentally?”
“And I may have told him that you and I hooked up and I was staying with you.”
She wanted to be mad at him, but his confession was said with such a cute face all she could do was grin. “Is that right?”
“And I may have had one too many and asked him to drive me here.”
“Wow. I’m impressed. Seems you got over the don’t tell white lies rule you had.” It was nice to know he worked so hard to find her.
“I guess I did.” He stood and stretched his arms over his head with a yawn.
The thought of him leaving emptied something inside her. “It’s late. Why don’t you just stay?”
He cocked his head to the side. “You sure?”
“Yeah. It’s not like we haven’t slept beside each other without… you know.”
“That would have proven difficult under the circumstances.”
She closed her laptop and set it aside. “If you want to go back to the hotel…”
“I didn’t say that.”
She wanted to clap but settled for a smile. “You can’t sleep naked. That would be like dangling a carrot before the horse.”
He lifted a brow. “A carrot?”
“OK a sausage before a bowl of spaghetti.”
He busted out laughing. “Not sure that’s better.”
“I’ll take the bathroom first.”
When they were both finished freshening up for a night of sleeping and not sex, Trent crawled into bed beside her and pulled her into him. Monica looked over her shoulder and kissed him. “Good night.”
“Good night, Monica.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The first time she woke in the middle of the night, Trent stroked her hair, and helped her fall back asleep. She curled next to him like a cat and murmured his name as she dozed. The second time Trent didn’t think she would remember. He felt her stirring beside him and realized he’d rolled over while he slept. Once he pulled her close, she settled.
He sat awake after that for some time. He’d had his share of nightmares since Jamaica, but never more than one in a night, and only a couple per week in the beginning. In the past month he could count on one hand the times his sleep had been interrupted with memories. Although he hoped her restless night was a rarity, he heard Jack’s words in his head and knew it probably wasn’t.
Trent kissed the top of her head and dropped off again.
The sound of water flowing in the pipes of the apartment woke him. Inside the bathroom he heard Monica humming and Trent felt a smile on his lips. What would it take to slip into the shower with her?
His body responded to the thought and he rolled over with a groan. Had he actually agreed to a no-sex relationship with the most beautiful woman he’d ever known?
God, he must have been desperate last night to agree to that stipulation. Then it dawned on him, he’d suggested it. Maybe he had drunk too much yesterday.
Trent slipped out of Monica’s bed, pulled on his pants, and padded with bare feet into her kitchen. He found her supply of coffee and prepared a pot.
The apartment was well laid out. The furniture looked to be new, the flat-screen TV would do a game day proud. There were silk flowers instead of live ones and a few childish art pictures hanging on her refrigerator along with a magnetic picture frame housing th
e artist. He was sipping his coffee and studying the picture of what Trent thought was a boy holding the leash of either a really big dog, or a very skinny horse. “To Auntie Monica,” was written on the bottom followed by, “From Danny.”
The fresh floral scent of Monica’s skin preceded her into the room. She walked into the kitchen and Trent forgot to breathe. Her skin was pink and scrubbed clean, her face was void of any makeup, and her hair was still wet, dripping. A small bead of water fell down to her shoulder, past the slim spaghetti strap of the small top she wore, and disappeared between her breasts.
He set his cup of coffee down before he dropped it. She wore yoga pants that fit like a second skin. Her toes peeked out from below, with pink sparkly polish finishing her off. As his eyes roamed back to her face he found her hungry gaze on him. She held a towel to her hair but had stopped attempting to dry it as she took a moment to look him over.
One step and he had her up against the wall and his lips on hers. It’s just a morning kiss. A good-morning-where-have-you-been-all-my-life kiss. She tasted like mint and smelled like spring. His body raged with the need to put more than his tongue in her, but he pushed those thoughts aside and just kissed her.
Just kissing with his hands on her breasts and over the curve of her ass. Her hand fisted in his hair and pulled him tighter and when her hips pushed into his he came up for air.
“This abstinence thing is really hard,” she said.
“It’s just a morning kiss.” He returned his lips to hers to prove it, and he would completely ignore the hard parts of him seeking the warm soft parts of her. Just kissing.
She was the one to pull away the second time. “Morning tonsil hockey is more than a morning kiss, Barefoot.”
“Want me to stop?”
She shook her head and he dipped down for further exploration of her clean teeth and tasty lips.
Minutes later, pulling away was one of the hardest thing he’d ever done in his adult life.
Her laughing eyes sparkled when they looked at him. “Two adults really should have more control,” he scolded the both of them.
“You’d think.”
He reached down and picked up the towel she’d dropped on the floor and handed it back. “I think I’ll take a shower.” Because if he stayed there, he’d have Monica horizontal and naked… or vertical and naked.
Not Quite Enough (Not Quite series) Page 24
