by Dee Tenorio
Call it pride, call it stupidity, she’d refused to go running off to Daddy, expecting him to fix it. Of course, she didn’t have the first clue what to do on her own, since back then her finances were largely Sanskrit scribbles. So the only alternative was to do what a shopping diva did best—she hired someone. She went looking through the yellow pages for a tax specialist. There were countless guys out there, but none of them made any sense. They wanted information she didn’t have about her own holdings. Access to accounts and information she couldn’t possibly know, meaning they couldn’t help her. And, they all warned, the IRS would want even more information. Receipts. For everything. By all accounts, if she didn’t return to her father for help, she was about to learn the true meaning of the word screwed.
David Ellison had been a last hope. A referral given to her by the last CPA she’d contacted. Ellison wasn’t a people person, the man had informed gently, but he knew tax law and loopholes as if he’d been born to them. Little did she know, he would become her salvation. In a dozen different ways David himself would never understand.
Couldn’t understand, she reminded herself with a scowl.
He wasn’t a jerk. She’d dated countless jerks in her time. David was just insensitive, a quality he’d warned her about in their first meeting.
“I’m not good with conversations,” he’d announced, much the way one would warn a tablemate that their drink was about to spill off the edge of the table. “But I’m sure I can help you get yourself in order.”
It had been true, for a while. But despite the white beaches and iridescent blue ocean lapping at the stilts of her bungalow, her life was most assuredly not in order.
David had never promised warmth or affection. He’d explicitly complimented her on her ability to make decisions logically, not blinded—most of the time—by irrational emotions. Showed what he knew. Agreeing to marry David Ellison was perhaps the most irrational decision she’d ever made.
He’d opened the door to his office and her whole world flipped over. Her stomach dropped, her mouth went dry and her brain absolutely melted. IRS? What IRS?
She could kick herself now, remembering. Instead of being the stronger adult she’d worked so hard to become, she’d wished desperately that she’d met him on a better day. One when her face wasn’t puffy from crying or when she might have been dressed in anything but a stained work blouse and wrinkled slacks.
It hadn’t mattered to him though. That night, David had only been interested in her books. He solved the problem of obtaining her previous tax records by not caring in the slightest about her father’s influence. He had a friend of his own in the IRS, who worked some kind of magic, and soon David had all her returns she barely knew about. He filed injunctions and started legal proceedings to have her personal finances removed from her father’s control. All the while he showed her, step by step, what it meant to monitor and take care of her own money. Helped her to become self-sufficient. It took months, but he’d managed to do what a decade of worthless arguments with her father hadn’t. He’d freed her.
And enslaved her at the same time.
Well, no, she ruminated. She’d done that particular bit of stupidity all on her own. Offering him friendship, looking for any sign he might want more. Giving, giving, giving him parts of herself, without him ever asking, wanting him to love her. Of course he’d taken what she offered. He’d have been an idiot not to. Especially when she began introducing him to families he wouldn’t have met if she hadn’t used her father’s name to get her in the door. So when he made his little proposal, she’d thought it was the sign she’d been waiting for.
Now look where she was. Miserable, stuck by her own hand in the Honeymoon Capital of the World, surrounded by tanned, half-naked, attractive people who were smiling as if their faces might fall off without it.
And that was the least of her trouble.
She heard footsteps on the wood plank walkway that led the way to the private bungalows on this strand. Hers was the second of five. Please, God, don’t let it be any of the gorgeous but definitely gay underwear models rowdying it up in the considerably larger Bungalow Four. Three of them had come over to welcome her and invite her to the party as soon as she’d arrived. Though she’d declined, the relative peace was being broken every few minutes by some new visitor headed that way.
“Krista?”
Eyes wide, she lurched upward in the padded chaise to stare at what had to be a figment of her imagination. “David?”
It wasn’t. He was there. Here. Opening the gate to her private deck and stepping inside. She was so stunned, she couldn’t come up with the words to remind him he hadn’t been invited in.
“How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t exactly difficult.” He settled himself next to her bare feet on the chaise. She was wearing a bathing suit and sarong set, practically a uniform on the beaches here in Tahiti. David’s black slacks and white dress shirt couldn’t have been more out of place, even with his tie miraculously not present. The top buttons were open, revealing the hollow at the base of his throat and just the lightest sprinkling of his chest hair. Even now, confused and unhappy as she was, that little flash of flesh made her want to touch him. She curled her fingers into fists.
David didn’t seem to notice, he simply sat straight and still, eyes locked on hers. “I’m your accountant, Kris. I just had to check your accounts. When I saw the charge for the travel agency, I had Betty match your flight arrangements.”
He what? “You invaded my privacy?”
“You ran away.” Which wasn’t an answer.
“I told you I needed to think.” She also needed to kill her travel agent.
“But you didn’t tell me why.”
“Didn’t I?” she snapped, feeling trapped and angry. How dare he follow her like this? “I needed time to myself, David. You of all people should respect that.”
“According to you, you’ve had nothing but time to yourself but you have yet to come to a conclusion about whatever your problem is. Maybe what you need is time with me.”
The obvious hit her suddenly. “What are you doing here? I thought you were too busy to travel.”
He sighed. It was small. More like a deep breath, but she knew every nuance of this man, who could give a marble statue a run for its money on expressionlessness. It was definitely a sigh, and a slightly frustrated one at that. “You needed me.”
Oh, please. “I gave you back your ring, David. In most circles, people know that means a breakup. Which, in case you were wondering, means I don’t need you.”
He remained still, not a flicker in his even gaze. She, on the other hand, was shaking and her eyes were burning with gathering tears. Damn him for this. For taking what little pride she had left. Couldn’t he show some hurt? Something?
“Is that what you were doing? Breaking up with me?”
“What else could it be?” She tried to roll off the other side of the chaise, but he suddenly looped his arm around her legs, trapping her. She glared at him. “Besides, aren’t you the one always reminding me that we have a contract instead of a relationship? What was there to break up?”
“I never said ‘instead’.”
He hadn’t, actually. Krista crossed her arms over her breasts. “You might as well have.”
“I don’t want this to end, Krista.” His voice was soft, husky, carried to her more by the wind than by him.
Against her will, she softened. Ending their agreement probably had come out of left field for him. “Your business will be fine. The groundwork is laid, it’ll keep growing even without me.”
“I don’t mean our contract.”
“Then what do you mean?”
The intensity radiating from his eyes speared her. “Us.” He swallowed. “I don’t want us to end.”
If he’d grabbed her and thrown her over his shoulder, he couldn’t have surprised her more. Technically, this was as close to such an action as David had ever gotten. But she’d gotte
n her hopes up too many times and been met with his special brand of indifference not to be wary now. Especially now. “Why?”
He finally looked away, discomfited. The breeze fluttered the ends of his hair, mussing the short strands the way she so often wanted to.
“If you don’t even know why—”
“I know why. I just don’t know how to say it right. I don’t want to hurt your feelings by saying it wrong again.”
“You’ve never worried about my feelings before.” But her stupid heart picked up its pace at the thought that he might be worried now. Stop looking for hope where there is none, she told herself sternly.
He lifted his chin and snagged her gaze. “I’ve always worried. You just never said you minded.”
“And I have to say everything? You can’t figure a few things out on your own?”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to.” He turned his gaze to the water beyond the deck, the smooth warmth of his side pressing tight to her legs. So cool, so unaffected.
Even now, looking at the proud lines of his face, feeling his warmth, knowing she could reach out and touch him had her belly tightening, the slick sensation at her center both familiar and depressing. Her body craved his, reacting to his intensity, his scent, his feel, like a Pavlovian parody. She didn’t want this, but she wanted him. Could almost feel him inside her, memory such an evil, insidious traitor.
Would he notice if she rubbed very slowly down his flank? Would it register to him at all if she stole just one more touch? One more dose of his singular pleasure? Call her a moron, but she did love him. Telling him something like that wasn’t possible; touch was the only outlet she’d had. It hadn’t taken any time at all to become addicted. Soon enough, that would be gone too. But not yet…
“What else haven’t I figured out?”
His sudden question made her jump. “What?”
“You said I needed to figure a few things out on my own. What else am I missing?”
She gurgled. She actually gurgled.
His brows rose and that hint of a smile curved his lips. She hated that smile. It was secret. Almost as if he didn’t know he were making it and she’d never seen him give it to anyone else. That smile always made her think he was implying things everyone else with a brain could tell he wasn’t. “I know you care about me. You wouldn’t be so responsive to me sexually if you didn’t.”
Maybe she should stop thinking about rubbing him and instead consider kicking him. Perhaps over the deck.
“I know you value me as a person, because you listen to me and my concerns. You help me instead of mocking me.”
“You wouldn’t get it if I was mocking you.” He didn’t seem to when anyone else did.
“I might not get it, but I’d know. I’ve always known when it was happening. There just didn’t seem to be much point in addressing it.”
“So you’re telling me that you’re secretly observant.” That would be the day.
“I’ve had to be. My father wasn’t capable of conveying what I needed to know in that capacity. I’ve had to teach myself.”
He never said much more than that about his father. His mother had died when he was too young to remember her, leaving him with a man who made David look like an emotional giant. She’d met Steven Ellison on multiple occasions. A wickedly brilliant mathematician, but a human icicle. The fact that she’d slept with David for the first time the same night she’d met the older man wasn’t exactly a shocker.
“But observing doesn’t mean understanding. Especially not nuance. I know every expression you’ve ever made, but I don’t always understand what they mean. The one on your face right now, for instance. I’m pretty sure you’re unhappy. But I don’t know about what.”
He didn’t know. Why was she surprised? Of course he didn’t know. He never seemed to know. Not when she needed him to hold her, just put his arms around her and help her feel protected. Not when she ached for him, when her skin throbbed for his touch and her body all but begged to be filled. She always had to ask, to show him what she needed. Had to lay herself bare while he kept everything behind that wall of silence. Well, she didn’t want to be quiet anymore. And she wasn’t about to beg for him to touch her either. Her body would have to learn to crave something else.
“Maybe because you invaded my privacy and my trust to follow me out here. Or how about that you’re pushing me to tell you things you should already damn well know.” She kicked out with her legs, surprising him enough to let her go. In an instant she was on her feet, heading into the bungalow, mad enough to find something heavy and throw it at him.
Worse, he didn’t seem upset in the slightest. “Krista, I’m just asking you to tell me what’s happening. Why won’t you talk to me?”
She pushed her way into the bungalow and decided, what the hell. He wanted to know so bad? Let him try to deal with her problems and see how he did. “Because I’m pregnant, you jerk.”
Then she slammed the door and had the hollow satisfaction of silence in her wake.
Chapter Six
Forty-eight minutes later, Krista peeked out her bedroom to look through the front French doors. Even with the filmy curtains in the way, she could tell that David hadn’t moved an inch. He was still parked on the chaise, legs thrust outward, though she could see that his feet were lying haphazardly in front of him.
She bit her upper lip, remorse filling her. She really shouldn’t have told him like that, but her temper had been getting closer and closer to the surface for months. Resentment at not being the love of his life grew with each day, never being resolved or even addressed. Sadly, she’d have been happy just being a love of his life, but her doubts that David Ellison could love at all eroded at her. Finding out three weeks ago that she was pregnant had dropped the bottom out of her world.
Tilting at windmills was fine when no one else was involved. Bringing a baby into the mess she’d created by following her hormones instead of her head… It made for a hell of a wakeup call.
The problem was that David wasn’t the one who needed waking.
Gathering her inner fortitude, Krista knew she owed him an apology. He’d flown thousands of miles for more than that, though. He’d come for an explanation. She wasn’t sure she had one to give him.
He didn’t react to the sound of the door opening or even when she sat next to him. His hands remained clenched on his thighs and his gaze stayed locked on the sea. Not good.
“Are you okay?”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. Really not good. Ashamed of herself, Krista folded her own hands in her lap and sighed. The Tahitian sunlight on her shoulders weighed three tons. “I shouldn’t have told you about the baby that way, I’m sorry. When I found out, I had all these plans to tell you over a special dinner, with candlelight and a present and everything.”
She looked over at his profile, but he still wasn’t responding. She stared down again, wishing she could make herself shut up. But when all else fails, blurt.
“I had everything ready, you even came over, just the way you said you would. But when the time came, I…I couldn’t get the words out. I don’t know why. I just couldn’t tell you. And the more I couldn’t say it, the angrier I got at you. I guess if I could make it your fault, somehow, that I couldn’t say it, then I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty for not letting you know.”
His hands flexed, the fabric of his slacks loosening, then bunching again under his grip.
“I know we always planned to have children…someday.” Someday just came so quick. And with it the knowledge that she’d been fooling herself. Loving him when he couldn’t love her, it hurt too much. She’d never survive, not the part of herself that had learned to stand on her own. It would crumble under the pressure to be whatever he reacted to. Just like with her father, she’d turn herself into a pretzel for his approval, for any sign of his respect. That was the knowledge that had her packing her bags and running for her life. Just the thought of going back to being someone’s helpless auto
maton. No. She’d do a lot of things for him, but she couldn’t allow herself to beg for his affection. To lose the threads of independence she’d worked so hard to weave.
“When it happened, I knew I couldn’t go on with that contract. I couldn’t trap myself into a loveless existence for the rest of my life. I want more than that.” She took a breath and straightened her shoulders. “I deserve more than that.”
His silence stung more with every passing second. “Say something, David,” she whispered, cheeks burning.
“I had no idea you thought so little of me.”
She blinked, startled. “What are you talking about? I think the world of you. You know that. I have the highest respect for you.” Losing her respect for herself was why she had to go.
“But you don’t want me to marry you.”
She choked. “That’s not what I said.”
His stare could have cut glass. “Then what did you say? Because it sounded like you were content to marry me until you realized you were pregnant. Then, suddenly, I wasn’t good enough for you.”
“No, David. No. It’s not about anyone being good enough. It’s because you don’t love me.”
“You’re sure of that?”
A bitter laugh tore straight from her heart. “You’ve told me often enough. Yes, I’m sure.”
“And I’m sure I’ve never said anything of the kind.”
His anger gave her a moment’s second guess. But how else should she have interpreted his distance for all things emotional? His ability to relegate her to unimportance without effort or remorse? No. He liked her. He wasn’t adverse to sex but sex wasn’t love.
“How can you be so sure when I had no idea what to call my feelings until this morning?”
