“I understand.”
“Make sure you do, Jill.” She sounded perfectly sober. “If you give in to temporary gratification, you’ll live to regret it.”
“Okay.” I was nodding. “I’ll listen to him. Then I’ll leave.” The vision of me as a lonely mistress sitting in her expensive flat waiting for an hour of his time here or there flashed into my mind. I knew that wasn’t the life I deserved.
“Good girl,” Louella said, as if she was my mother instead of someone my age. “And make him wait half an hour. That will unnerve him. He’ll be thrown off his game and easier to control.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t experienced at controlling men, but in this situation, I could see it would be helpful. If I went in soft, he might be able to sway me. Only, “I’m nervous already. If I have to sit around for thirty minutes I’ll go nuts.”
“Take off your makeup and put it back on.”
She was smart! That was perfect advice.
I ended the call and went into the bathroom. It took ten minutes to get it all off and wash my face, then there was no way I was going down looking like that, so I painstakingly reapplied it all and by then I was twenty minutes late. I checked my phone. He hadn’t called me, and that was points in his favor. I imagined he was just sitting there, lunching on his fingernails. So I took my time ambling down to the restaurant several floors below, stopping to check out the moonlit ocean on the way, showcased in the floor to ceiling walls of the restaurant entry.
A waitress showed me to Finn’s table in a back corner, undoubtedly chosen for privacy, but it had an awesome view of the ocean and he’d left the seat facing the window for me. Thoughtful.
He rose immediately when he saw me approaching and stepped around the table.
I didn’t want a hug. That would undo all my careful reserve, so I took a deliberate step backward and thanked the waitress before turning to face him. “Finn.”
He stayed where he was but said, “Thank God you came,” and actually laid his hand over his heart. “I thought I’d be drowned by this unrequited love, and—”
“You will be,” I cut in, forcing myself to be harsh, to ignore the L word. “I’m only here to listen so you’ll leave me alone, as you promised to in your note.” That shut him up. “And by the way, if you go behind my back to see one of my girlfriends again I’ll…” What? Find him and tell him off? That’s probably what he wanted. “I’ll have you killed. I know people,” I said boldly, then immediately I realized how idiotic that sounded. I’d just quoted a line out of a movie. Probably a well-known movie.
He blinked a few times, probably wondering if I was joking.
Talk about starting badly! I tried to salvage some dignity by tilting my chin. “May I sit?”
“Of course.” He moved around and pulled my chair out for me, then pushed it in as I sat. Despite best intentions, my imagination visualized a clipboard with a list of perfect partner attributes where old fashioned manners got a broad tick.
He sat across from me with a crisp white tablecloth and gleaming silverware between us. “So,” he straightened his shoulders. “I jumped the gun there with the unrequited love thing. I’d planned to tell you that I love you in a more romantic way than that.” He was frowning, and a treacherous part of me wanted to rub my thumb against the tiny crease in his forehead. Then I wanted to strip his beautifully tailored suit jacket off, loosen his tie with my teeth and grab the two sides of his pale blue shirt and tear it open, popping buttons all over the restaurant in the process.
Instead, I said, “It’s pointless, really. It makes no difference to me that I love you. Why would I care that you love me?”
Tell that to my stupid heart that was singing madly at the idea that he loved me. He’d actually said it out loud. Dear God I’d waited so long for that, hoping it would give me a feeling of power in the relationship. I’d been sure that would help me let go. Unfortunately, his declaration only made me love him more. So I’d just have to count on determination, backed up by Missy Lou’s example of unhappiness. I didn’t want to go down that road.
His frown deepened and it only made the stark lines of his face more masculine, and impossibly more handsome. “People usually do care about that,” he said softly.
“I’m not usual people.”
He nodded. “I know that. On the one hand you’re spectacularly funny, and sexy and smart—”
“And on the other hand, I just fucked a young man seventy times in a fortnight.”
May as well rub his nose in it.
He nodded again and his voice hardened. “Not to mention that you got your ass whipped and fucked.”
“And I liked it.”
I’d said it as a challenge, but I could feel myself heating up as I thought about Finn smacking my ass with those big hands of his. There was also a distracting feeling across my chest, as if my bra was suddenly uncomfortable. Were my nipples hard? There was tingling there.
Finn’s eyes had narrowed and grown darker. I could see he was angry. Maybe jealous. Was I also turning him on? “I never thought I’d want to do something like that.”
“But now you do?”
He nodded, his gaze pinning me where I sat. “I want to do everything that makes you come.”
My breath caught somewhere in my upper chest.
That was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard. I found myself licking my lips, and the faraway voice in my mind that had been saying, Take control. Tell him it’s over. Walk away went suspiciously quiet. I did manage to clear my throat and speak. “You told me you had something to say tonight. Was that it?”
“No.”
The waitress arrived, and I struggled not to say Leave us alone, I just want to get this over with. Instead, I ordered something. Wine. I don’t remember what. I was too busy staring at Finn, feeling like I’d never wanted anyone as much as I wanted him in that moment. My pulsed throbbed with it, low and warm and tingling and ready, and I felt so breathless. If he’d wanted to take me against the picture window beside us, I would have closed my eyes and cared less what people thought.
At last, the waitress left us alone.
We stared at each other for the longest time. Then I said, “Fritha told me you blabbed a lot of personal stuff to her. I assume you want to share that.”
“No.”
At first, I was shocked, then I thought, bastard. Was Fritha easier to talk to or something? That twisted the jealousy knife, and made me all the more determined to ditch him. “Then what is it?” I snapped.
He sucked in a deep, slow breath, his chest rising and falling. Finally he said, “You’ve made it clear that you don’t want to be with me in a…relationship way.”
“Correct.” I willed him to let me off the hook, to say, Okay, then I’ll leave you alone.
Instead, he said, “So I thought I’d ask…if we could be friends.”
I immediately shook my head, cursing myself for not seeing this coming. I should have suspected he’d plan something to keep me around and soften me up over time, weaken my defenses and then lure me into sex when I was even more in love with him. I had to nip this idea in the bud, so I put some disdain in my voice, “With benefits, I presume?” May as well be nasty. It might end up putting him off, and it certainly helped me distance myself emotionally.
“No.” His chest rose and fell. “That will drive me crazy.”
“I wasn’t offering it,” I snapped. “I was clarifying your proposal before I refused it. No, thank you. I don’t want to be friends with you.”
He looked as if he hadn’t expected that. “Then what do you want?”
“Nothing from you.”
That hurt him. He pulled back slightly. Not exactly reeling, but clearly struggling to retain his composure. Unfortunately, his eyes were windows to the pain inside, and looking at him made me ache up behind my ribs.
“Okay.” He nodded and seemed to gather himself. “Then what about life? What do you want out of life?”
I could have said, None o
f your business, but this might be a good opportunity to push him away. With luck, my complete focus on money might disgust him. “Honestly?”
He nodded, so I started counting off on my fingers.
“I want a house of my own.” May as well continue the lie I’d started with Fritha. “I want to not feel bad about the work I’m doing, because for the first time in my life I’m earning shitloads. And I want Fritha to stop pressuring me to get married.”
“She showed me her bridesmaid dress,” he said, completely straight-faced.
I stared back at him, open mouthed, as the waitress turned up with our wine. That gave me thirty seconds to get over my shock that F had bought a dress when I wasn’t even seeing anyone. Let alone, that she’d showed it to Finn of all people!
She would have known better than to show it to me. I’d have told her off, big-time.
When Finn and I were alone again I said, “She’s been angling to be a bridesmaid for years,” annoyed that I had to apologize on her behalf.
He nodded, and then something happened behind his eyes. He watched me for a moment longer before he said, “She told me she thought you’d end up marrying Doug.”
My angry pulse slowed with shock. What the hell? “What did she say about Doug?”
“That everyone likes him. He’s a great guy. You were crazy not to marry him.”
“I am crazy. You know that.” I hedged, wondering where his Spanish Inquisition was going.
His eyes narrowed even further. “Do you love him? More than you love me?”
“What?” I tried to put some outrage into my voice. “I’m not going there.”
“Why not? If you’re going to dump me—”
“I can’t ‘dump’ someone I was never in a relationship with.”
“You dumped Doug.” Finn’s voice had a definite edge to it now. “But not before he had you in his life and his bed for ten years—”
Ten of the most boring years of my life.
“—and what did he do to deserve that? What do I have to do?” Definitely angry now.
I picked up my glass and took a solid slug of wine. I really wanted this conversation to be over.
“Jill?” He obviously didn’t.
I shook my head. “I don’t know why Fritha would say those things. Doug is ancient history. He’s nothing to do with you and me, so I’m not going to talk about him.”
“I deserve to know whether you’re renouncing all boyfriends or potential husbands,” he said, looking suddenly sexy and demanding—a bossy side of Finn I hadn’t seen before. “Or if it’s just me you’re pushing away.” He leant in and lowered his voice. “Because if you think I’m going to stand by and let you marry Doug, you’ve got another thing coming.”
I blinked at him in surprise. “Marry? What?”
He just glared at me.
“Oh my God. Are you jealous? Of Doug?”
“Yes. I am,” he snapped. “If he was standing in front of me I’d…” He glanced away and frowned. “I don’t know what I’d do. I’m so jealous I can’t think straight.” He picked up his own glass of wine and drank it all.
All.
I just sat there watching him and, in my amazement, I couldn’t help smiling. “Boozehound.”
“You made me.”
I actually laughed, and it was so unexpected. One second I was cranky and the next…I felt so fond of Finn. He was frankly adorable, particularly when he was mixed up and angsty.
“Hey.” I tapped on the table and waited until he looked at me. “If it counts for anything, I was jealous as hell when you were talking to Katinka at the airport.”
He frowned immediately. “I should never have done that. I know it put you off completely. But there was…There were things I needed to sort out. They’re done now. I’m separated and filing for divorce.”
My moment of amusement was suddenly over, and I had to struggle against the lurch of excitement that one declaration caused. For some reason it was even more thrilling than I love you. Finn was officially available, and I didn’t want the details of who had broken up with whom. All that mattered was that they’d broken up, presumably because of me, and that it was a positive thing for Finn. He was no longer tied to a cheating wife.
“So…” He straightened again, and waited until he’d caught my eye. “I wanted to date you if—”
“In between husband sits?”
He looked shocked, and shook his head slowly. “That’s not—”
“I’m not stopping.”
At least not until I had another fifty grand.
Finn just stared at me, as if he hadn’t expected that at all. “Because you like it?”
My mind tracked back to Damien and Simon. No. I hadn’t liked that. I’d had orgasms, but the emotional fallout had been horrendous. I wasn’t sure how to answer his question, but luck sent the waitress our way with a notepad and I snatched up the menu instead.
I needed something solid in my stomach. And I needed to stop drinking wine or I’d be babbling, and all my good intentions would go down the drain. I ordered potato gnocchi in a creamy pumpkin sauce with sparkling water on the side.
When she was gone, he said, “Or are you just husband sitting so you can save up for a house?”
I shook my head, not sure what to say anymore because I was suddenly very confused. We loved each other. He wanted to be with me. I would only be husband sitting for another five weeks. Could I ask him to wait? Would it work between us? Or would the taint of how we’d met, of what I’d done—prostitution, admit it—would that sour things over time? Would he wonder if I could be faithful? Or was he only attracted to me because he thought I was a dirty girl?
When I wasn’t really. I was actually quite boring, maybe even as boring as Doug had been. Brittany was always telling me I was a stay-at-home stickin-the-mud. If I tried to settle into a normal suburban life with Finn, would he quickly realize all the crazy sex stuff had been instigated by other people, not me? Would he get bored?
“Jill?”
In desperation, I glanced out the window. “The ocean looks gorgeous.”
“Beautiful. But tell me, are you putting your earnings into a savings or an investment account?”
I turned back to him, frowning. “What do you mean, an investment account?”
He stared at me for the longest time, then he said, cautiously, “I know about making money, Jill. I can help you take the ‘salary’ you’re earning and multiply it. You can have your house sooner.”
I gave him a Missy Lou look of disapproval. “You just want me to stop fucking other men.”
“Yes. I do.” He gave me a cheeky smile. “But I’m far less jealous of them than I am of Doug.” He reached across and took my hand. “And it’s important to me that you feel secure, financially and physically.”
His warm fingers against mine reminded me of how they’d felt sliding over my body, stroking my clit, and despite the fact that it was a non-sexual gesture, my pussy clutched on itself as if his fingers were there. I couldn’t think when he was touching me. Well, I couldn’t think about anything other than sex. So I disengaged my hand as politely as I could, to concentrate on the conversation. “A house,” I said, struggling to keep on topic and not start fantasizing about those fingers and what they could do. “I need a house to feel safe.”
Actually, I needed Brittany with me to feel safe, to feel like I had my family safe, but I wasn’t telling him that.
He leant back in his chair. “I could be your mentor. Is there some business you’d like to invest in? That’s probably the best way to—”
“A teahouse in Belandera!” I cut over him, feeling my heart race and having no way to stop it. “Fritha’s always wanted to run one, with crazy teapots and books and a reading corner, and fabulous, fabulous tea.”
My heart was leaping in my throat at the idea that Fritha’s dream might come true. Could I pay Brittany’s hospital bills and finance a business, hopeless me who couldn’t even buy my own home? Maybe I c
ould keep husband sitting…but that would mean pushing Finn further away.
I suddenly wasn’t sure I wanted to do that.
Unaware of my confusion, he grinned across at me and, honestly, I felt myself swoon. He was so incredibly sexy, with those white teeth against his tanned skin and those warm green eyes.
I just wanted to eat him up. But instead I said, “Would it make money?”
“It might. Fritha certainly has a lot of energy. If she was emotionally invested in its success, it could be a good vehicle to grow your assets. I could look into it.”
Would you?
I stopped myself saying that, stopped myself wondering what sort of energy Fritha had displayed that so impressed him. Jealousy would only confuse me. I had to think this through. My stupid heart leapt at the idea of spending more time with him, and I had to clamp down on that. I had no idea what I was doing. I could be very badly hurt. But Fritha! How elated would she be?
We stared at each other and I simply couldn’t make my brain work. I was too full of reckless excitement and surging hormones. Finn was looking at me with those bedroom eyes, smiling a ‘cat that got the cream’ smile because he finally thought he had something over me. But dammit, he looked so scrumptious I couldn’t be mad at him for positioning me right where he wanted me.
Well, maybe not right where he wanted me. I was pretty sure by the sexual heat he was radiating that he wanted me under him, or over him, or at least flesh-to-flesh with him.
In the end, I just said, “Yes. Please look into it.”
“I could do that tonight.” His gaze turned up the heat. “I’d be prepared to stay up late—naked in bed with my laptop, right next door to your room…”
Cheeky bastard. “Oh really?”
“Sure. But tomorrow you’d have to pay me back.”
My smile faltered.
“By swimming with me,” he hurried to add. “We’ll call it a consultation. I can brief you on the feasibility of the idea, but I’ll need some start up information. How much capital do you have?”
I shook my head. “Is that cash? How much cash do I have?”
His smile widened. “You really do need me.”
Husband Sit (Husband #1) Page 19
