A Prior Engagement

by Karina Bliss

  “Falling in love is the easy part,” she’d said. “Staying in love—”

  “Requires a real commitment.” Impatiently he’d snapped open the small velvet box again. “I can’t make more of a commitment than this. It isn’t complicated, Jules. Do you believe in us or not?”

  “I believe in the potential of us.”

  “Yes. Or no?”

  “I don’t believe, not yet.”

  A sound made him straighten—Jules stood in the doorway. “I’m thirsty, too.”

  Silently he gave her his full glass, spilling some as she took it. Jules watched him over the rim as she took a couple of sips, her gaze anxious, assessing. Turning his back, Lee mopped up the spill with a dishcloth.

  She rinsed and refilled the glass for him, but he waved it away. “I’m done.” He switched off the kitchen light and together they walked along the hall, light from their respective rooms showing the way. He paused at his door, glanced at her without seeing. “Well, good night.”

  “Lee, wait.” Her sympathetic hug caught him by surprise. He froze.

  Instantly Jules released him, clasping her hands behind her back. “I’m sorry, I forgot you don’t like...” Her voice trailed off.

  “Don’t like what?”

  “Nothing. Good night.” She started down the hall.

  He frowned. She couldn’t know about his reaction to the guys’ hugs because she hadn’t been there.... “Who told you?” he demanded flatly.

  Cautiously, she turned. “Claire mentioned you had a prob... Issue with—”

  “Oh, that’s right.” His laugh sounded bitter in his ears. “Claire and Nate exchange pillow talk now.” Lee had tensed under Jules’s touch for reasons altogether different from claustrophobia.

  “She only told me to make things easier for you.”

  “Easier for...” His fiancée’s hypocrisy was breathtaking. “So the only reason you’re keeping your distance is out of consideration for my phobia.”

  Jules folded her arms, and her breasts rounded under the pressure. “I want you to recover fully before we move on to the next stage.” She was picking her words as carefully as Lee used to sweep minefields.

  Well, guess what, sweet pea, the one you think you’re sidestepping is remotely detonated. “I hate to think of you suffering on my account,” he said. “Come here.”

  Her brown eyes widened slightly, and she didn’t move.

  “Come here,” he repeated softly. “If only to convince you that I don’t have a phobia.”

  Biting her lower lip, she stepped forward. Catching her around the waist, he encouraged her closer. “See? No panic attack.”

  Her palms on his shoulders trembled; he became aware of it as his body attuned to hers. But then he was downright irresistible these days.

  Wanting to shock her, Lee skimmed his hands over the swell of her bottom and tugged her hips against his so she could feel the iron hardness of his cock.

  Jules seized a silent, indrawn breath. Held it.

  He waited for her to pull away. Her eyes met his and her pupils flared with—his hold tightened—desire? Then her lashes fell, hiding her expression. She was conflicted? Well, so was he. There was nothing honest about this interaction.

  As he went to release her, she surprised him by sliding her fingers from his shoulders, down his arms, warm where skin met skin. He shivered. They came to rest on his waist. She let out the breath she’d been holding in a rush and her breasts bumped his chest.

  All of Lee jumped.

  Immediately she stepped back. “I’m sorry, I—”

  He closed the gap. Nudging her body against the wall with his, he bent his head and kissed her.

  Jules’s muffled groan vibrated through his lips before her mouth opened to him, her tongue seeking his.

  Yesterday...it could have been yesterday. They fit together so easily; she opened to him—responded to him—so passionately. How could this not be real?

  God help him, he still burned for her. And the futility of his longing—the despair of it—made Lee mean, made him dangerous.

  How far would she go?

  He cupped a breast, teasing the nipple through the cotton. She pressed against his palm. Oh, sweet Jesus.

  Her hands slid under his T-shirt, skimming the waistband of his boxers and moving higher to bare skin.

  Lee stopped her before they reached the first ridge of scar tissue.

  “This is about you,” he said.

  “No.”

  “Yes.” He wanted this power, needed it. Lee spun her around so she couldn’t reach him. With her spine pressed against his torso, he wrapped one arm around her ribs and nuzzled her neck, pushing away her silky hair to find the soft spot. God, her muscles were tight. Her smooth skin was gooseflesh as she shivered voluptuously.

  The scent of her hair, of her, affected him on some primal level. It was the only sense he hadn’t been able to conjure in his dank, dark, fetid prison. Lee sucked in a deep, heady breath and then had to blink hard as tears sprung unexpectedly to his eyes.

  “Lee.” Jules started to turn but he nipped her earlobe, causing her to squirm. That sent all kinds of sensations shooting to his groin. “I need to touch you,” she pleaded.

  His arm tightened around her. “Too bad.”

  She turned her head and he stymied her next protest with a kiss that made Jules catch his forearm to steady herself.

  Lee pushed down the straps of her tank and kissed her shoulders. His cock throbbed.

  “I need to touch—”

  He kissed her again, harder, shoving the bunched tank to her waist and baring her beautiful breasts. His fingers slid over the boxers to tease her soft, yielding cleft and circle the hard nub of her clitoris.

  Jules started to pant. “No,” she gasped. “Together. It has to be together.” Her hands reached behind, seeking him, and Lee splayed his palm against her belly to stop her.

  She retaliated by wriggling her bottom against his erection, creating an exquisite friction. Looking down at her nipples, rosy and peaked, at his hand splayed at the juncture of her thighs over the dampened green boxers, his control frayed.

  All he had to do was yank down her boxers to take her. He could already imagine Jules bent over the bed, open to him, surrendered to him, her breasts filling his palms as he thrust into her.

  In sex at least he could make her give up control. He could win. And then a prick of conscience pierced his lust. She doesn’t deserve this, no matter what she’s done.

  “Don’t stop,” Jules begged when he stilled. She rubbed her ass against him. Light spilled into the hall from the master bedroom and gleamed in her hair and in her eyes, heavy lidded with desire.

  Lee kissed her again feverishly. She owed him.

  Is this your victory? His goddamned conscience wouldn’t shut up.

  She’d lost control like this when they’d gone to bed on their first date. Her body overruling the clever brain telling her to be cautious. Lee had used sex then to lure her into a relationship. Because they were meant to be together. In his bones, he knew that.

  But he knew differently now.

  It didn’t matter that their flesh was willing. The other bonds, the ones that mattered, were broken. Lee deepened the kiss anyway, and she twisted to wind her arms around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair as their bodies strained closer.

  It was no good. He was about to have sex with a woman he no longer respected, and he didn’t want
to be that kind of man.

  He released Jules so suddenly she staggered. Lee caught her by the arm, steadying her. She looked at him in bewilderment.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess...I’m not ready.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, stumbling into the bedroom and closing the door before he did something stupid.

  Like tell her the truth didn’t matter.

  * * *

  JULES THREADED HER arms through the straps of her green tank, straightened her shorts and moved mechanically down the hall, shutting her bedroom door behind her before sinking against it. Drawing up her knees, she hugged them tight.

  She’d expected mood swings, knew there’d be changes in Lee’s personality—irrational anger, difficulty expressing himself—she’d prepared herself for that. But this was different. It was almost as if he was punishing himself for wanting her. Had she triggered some dark memory...held him too tight?

  With a groan, she dropped her forehead to her knees. He’d been the one to call stop, but it should have been her. Only this afternoon she’d pledged to keep a lid on old emotions. You idiot. He’ll only feel more betrayed when you tell him the truth.

  But his first touch woke a craving Jules had been powerless to resist. She’d mourned him as dead for over a year and a half. To hold him was a miracle. To kiss him, a miracle.

  To be wanted by him....

  Even now—rejected—she wanted to go to him and say, I have to make love to you one last time, please.

  In the months that had followed Lee’s apparent death, she had grown to know Lee better through his friends and family. Had grown to love him more. And to see why their relationship would never have survived—they were inherently mismatched.

  Coming from the bedrock of a loving family, Lee could never have understood Jules’s almost obsessive need to prove they were solid before taking the next step.

  Wearily Jules pushed to her feet, switched off the light and crawled into bed, pulling the covers tight to her chin despite the warm night. Needy and unfulfilled, she lay very quiet and concentrated on calming her breathing, relaxing her muscles and trying not to cry.

  What had crying ever solved?

  Laying her hand on the pillow beside her, she stared at the silhouette of the ring gleaming in the moonlight.

  How often in her grief had she struggled to hold on to Lee in a dream, weeping because she knew at some point she’d have to wake up and face reality?

  It had been naive to think she could help him while living a lie. And she certainly couldn’t risk this situation escalating into intimacy. Love didn’t conquer all—they’d proved that argument nineteen months ago and there was no point repeating history. He’d changed in ways she hadn’t yet fathomed, but she couldn’t rely on his resilience if she got this wrong again.

  She would tell him the truth tomorrow after dinner with Nate and Claire.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE FIRST LEE knew of Nate and Claire coming to dinner was when he found them on the front doorstep holding casserole dishes. “This is a nice surprise.” He kissed Claire’s cheek, clasped Nate’s shoulder. “We weren’t expecting you guys...were we?”

  He glanced at Jules, who’d arrived home at the same time as their visitors. Dropping her house keys on the hall table, she smiled vaguely in his direction.

  “Didn’t I tell you? We thought it would be nice if we all had dinner together before you guys leave for the farm tomorrow.” She’d already left the house by the time he rose this morning, and he’d spent the afternoon at the dentist. Lee had arrived home, steeling himself for a final confrontation, only to discover her out again. Shopping, her note had read. Clearly she wasn’t in any hurry to discuss what had nearly happened last night. Was that why she’d brought in reinforcements?

  “Pie, too.” Nate gave Lee a pie dish. “Your favorite—rhubarb and apple.”

  Except this was clearly no impromptu arrangement. “Well, come on in then.” That’s when Lee registered the teenager hanging shyly behind Claire. “Lewis?”

  “Hi, Lee.”

  “Holy hell, mate, you grew.” Lewie had been eleven when they’d last met and Lee had swung him around in big airplane swoops on the lawn. He stuck out the hand he wasn’t using to hold the pie dish. Steve’s son, a lanky blond teen. Lewis had his father’s firm grip—and his hazel eyes. God. Lee released his hold. “You look so different.”

  The teenager stared at him. “You, too.”

  “Lewis,” his mother murmured, but Lee laughed.

  “Like I told my nephews, you’ve got a month tops to beat me at arm wrestling so make the most of it.” He’d been the games organizer at gatherings. Football, volleyball...hell...anything that could be made a competition.

  “I can do the ‘hanging man’ for two full minutes,” Lewis said.

  “Yeah?” The hanging man involved holding a bicep curl while suspended from one of the ceiling beams at the Stingray Bay cabin. “Good for you.”

  In the bustle of their arrival Lee drew Nate aside. “Spill.”

  “I missed you,” he said.

  “We’re going to the farm together tomorrow,” Lee said drily.

  “Lewis isn’t and, as I told you before, he’s been dying to see you,” Nate said. “Plus Jules mentioned you’d taken delivery of a home gym and we wanted to check it out. So where is it?”

  Ah, so that was it. “Set up the spare room, but plenty of time for that. C’mon, I’ll find you a beer.” Leading the way to the kitchen, Lee resolved to show Nate the equipment after he’d adjusted the weight load down. But when he arrived at the fridge, he realized nobody had followed him.

  Dammit. Dumping the pie on the counter, he went to the spare room, where he found Lewis in front of the mirror, using his whole body to sling the dumbbell to his shoulder. The kid was built like a pipe cleaner, all his growth still in height. Lee exchanged a secret “aw, cute” grin with Nate, who sat on the weight bench. “We need a home gym at our house,” the teen said.

  “And keep it where?” Nate inquired.

  Lewis changed sides with the dumbbell. “Mark could add a weight room to the extension plans.”

  Lee stiffened. “You’re renovating?” he asked Nate casually.

  “We need more room to live there permanently.”

  Lee glanced at Lewis, who was scowling. “You’re not happy about that, mate?”

  “We could move to Hollywood—instead we’re gonna fish.” Lewis dropped the dumbbell and moved to the lat pulldown.

  “Hey, Zander Freedman’s coming to the launch,” Nate teased. “What more do you want?”

  “The rock star who fired you as his bodyguard?” Lee said. “How does that work?”

  “He’d decided to forgive me for making him fire me—and yeah, he really does think like that. So he’s magnanimously coming to give his blessing since he’s here visiting family anyway. Zander assures me the publicity will throw our charter business into the stratosphere. He might be right. I must tell Jules—she has a crush on him.”

  Lee frowned. “On Freedman? He’s what, forty?”

  “Guess she likes the wild ones.” Nate grinned.

  Then why had she dated a man who wore polo sweaters? “So the guy who drew your plans.” Lee replaced the dumbbell Lewis had discarded in its holder, watching Nate carefully. “Maybe he should take a look at this place.”

  “Maybe...Lewie...keep your arms bent.” Rising from the bed, Nate busied hims
elf adjusting the teen’s handhold on the overhead bar. Avoiding Lee’s gaze.

  Huh. So his buddy knew about Jules dating Mark and hadn’t mentioned it. On the other hand, how did you break news like that?

  In the cold light of day Lee was ashamed of his feelings last night, ashamed of his continuing desire for a woman who’d deceived everybody he cared about.

  “Yeah, mate, that’s better.” Stepping away from the other two, he watched Lewis, his attention miles away. The Pashtun had a saying, “Who has fallen from the top of a high mountain recovers. Who has fallen from the heart’s anguish recovers not.” Revenge wasn’t sweet, it was corrosive, and he needed to rebuild his life. These games had to end. Tonight, when their friends left.

  Nate moved to the barbell suspended over the weight bench. “You’re lifting way too much for a convalescent.”

  So it was out in the open now. “You’re here to check up on me.”

  “Have you visited the doctor yet?”

  Lee folded his arms. “I suspect you already know the answer to that.”

  “Hey, don’t get pissed at Jules. She’s worried about you.”

  “Look, I haven’t thrown up since Monday,” Lee said irritably.

  Nate gawked at him, then threw back his head and bellowed. “Jules!” Footsteps hurried down the hall, and she stuck her head around the door. “You didn’t tell me he’d been vomiting!”

  She threw Lee a look of disgust. “Blabbermouth.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Sorry, I thought you’d squealed. You run, I’ll cover.”

  She didn’t need to be told twice. Nate put his hands on his hips. “Grab a jacket, dumb-ass. We’re getting you checked out right now.”

  “And sit in Emergency for hours?” Lee said. “I’m a paramedic, I can self-monitor.”

  “When did you last take your temperature?”

  “Um.” Shit.

  “What’s your pulse rate?”