by Reese Ryan
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your fresh air. Congratulations again on your engagement. Good night.”
Tressa’s brow furrowed. “Wait.” The word came too urgently. “You’re not leaving, are you? The party, I mean.” Why did the possibility bother her so much?
“Shortly. I promised two of your aunts dances, and I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Then I need to get on the road before it gets too late.”
Yeah, her aunts—and several other of her female family members—had grown quite fond of Roth. Alonso, too. But Vivian had intervened on that one, crushing all of their dreams about her man. “On the road?”
“I have a cabin in Silver Point. The mountains,” he clarified. “About four hours away.”
“Huh.”
“Don’t look so surprised.”
“It’s not that. I just took you for more of a city dweller.”
“I love being in the mountains. No one near for miles. Absolute peace and quiet. I can go on my deck and play my sax as early or as late as I want without disturbing a soul.” His brow furrowed. “That reminds me. I don’t think I locked my vehicle.” Obviously, he noticed Tressa’s where-did-that-come-from expression. “Juliette’s in there—my saxophone.”
“You call your saxophone Juliette?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Tressa recalled the first and last time she’d watched him play his sax. It was the most alluring thing she’d ever witnessed. He’d made absolute love to the instrument. The way he’d held it, caressed it, wrapped his lips around it… Her cheeks heated just thinking about him playing her like a saxophone.
What is wrong with you? You are about to be a married woman. Her mother would be so disappointed in her for lusting over one man while engaged to another. She massaged the side of her neck. “So, the mountains?”
Roth continued, “Mountain air is great for clearing the mind and rejuvenating the soul.”
Sounded like her kind of place. “You sound like a travel brochure. I’ve never been to the mountains.” The declaration sounded as if she was trolling for an invite. She kicked herself.
“Really?”
She nodded.
“Well, anytime you and your husband want to get away, let me know. You’re more than welcome to use my place. It’s not much, but it’s cozy and intimate. The perfect escape for a couple in love.”
A couple in love. Boy, he was laying it on thick. Tressa returned her attention to the darkness.
“Tressa, are you sure—”
Whipping toward him, she said, “Yes, I’m sure I want to marry Cyrus. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“I…was actually going to ask you if you were sure standing in this cold was a good idea.”
She eyed Roth dumbly, her level of embarrassment soaring to unprecedented heights. “Oh.” Compassion danced in Roth’s eyes as he scrutinized her. No doubt he saw right through her. How was that possible?
Standing dangerously close to her, he said, “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m a great listener.”
“Thank you, but I’m—”
“Fine,” he said, completing her sentence for the second time tonight.
“You’re getting pretty good at finishing my thoughts.”
The corner of his mouth lifted into a sexy smirk. “If I thought that had been a compliment, I would say thank you.”
He was getting pretty good at reading her, too, because it had been a cynical remark. When she attempted to remove his coat to return it, he stopped her.
“Just leave it with the hostess when you’re done. She’ll make sure I get it. Good night, Tressa. Enjoy the rest of your party.”
“Enjoy the mountains.”
When Roth disappeared through the doors, she tightened his coat around her, inhaling his delicious scent. Had Roth’s intrusion really been her sign? She laughed at herself. No. Tilting her head again, she said, “God, if you send me a sign, please make it a pronounced one. I don’t want to miss it.”
Twenty minutes later Tressa found herself on the dance floor with her soon-to-be husband. With her thoughts still stuck on her encounter with Roth, she barely processed Cyrus’s presence.
“Should it bother me that my fiancée smells like another man’s cologne?”
This snagged her attention. Reeling back, she stared into Cyrus’s probing green eyes. “Excuse me?”
“You smell like him.”
Playing coy, she said, “Him, who?”
Cyrus’s features hardened and deep lines etched into his caramel-toned forehead. “You know what him I’m referring to. Don’t try to play me for a fool.” His expression softened. “I love you, Tressa. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I need to know.”
She searched his sad eyes. “Need to know what, Cyrus?”
“I need to know… I need to know if you’re sleeping with him.”
Tressa froze, stunned by Cyrus’s question. Her lips parted, but nothing readily escaped. Why in the world had Cyrus asked her that?
“I see the way he looks at you. Hell, he’s been staring at you all night. Every damn move you make. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you to him.”
Cyrus’s words broke her heart. At that moment she realized how unfair she’d been to him. Cradling his smooth face between her hands, she said, “I would never hurt you like that, Cyrus. You’re the man I’m marrying, remember?”
A smile curled his lips and he eased his forehead against hers. “I love you, baby. I love you so much.” His expression turned somber and he rested his hands on either side of her neck. “I’ve made mistakes, Tressa. But I swear I’m going to be a good husband to you.”
Mistakes. What mistakes had he been referring to? Before she got the opportunity to ask, clapping sounded behind Cyrus. Tressa glanced over his shoulder, her gaze landing on a brown-skinned woman in a very revealing black gown. She wore a black fishnet veil that made her look as if she was in mourning.
“That was so beautiful,” the woman said, nearing them. “Too bad it’s nothing but a bunch of bull—”
“Natalie!” Cyrus barked. His nostrils flared and a vein pulsed in his neck. “What in the hell are you doing here?” he said through clenched teeth.
Fine lines etched into Tressa’s forehead. “Natalie? You know this woman, Cyrus?”
“Yes, he does. Very well.” Natalie placed her hands on her hips. “We had an intimate work relationship until a few days ago,” she said with a smirk.
Cyrus looked as if he could snatch the woman’s heart out with his hand. Spittle flew from his mouth when he said, “Shut the hell up, Natalie,” through teeth gritted so tightly they should have all been ground to dust.
Whispers and words revealing shock among the small crowd now circling them, swirled around her. Tuning it all out, she zeroed in on Cyrus. “You should probably start talking right now. What’s going on?”
“Yes, Cyrus. We’d both like to know what the hell is going on,” Natalie added.
This time ignoring their party crasher, Cyrus turned to her. “Tressa. I made a mistake. We can—”
When he reached for her, she backed away. This was the mistake he referenced earlier. “How long?”
When he didn’t answer, Natalie did. “Four months.”
“Four—” The air seized in her lungs.
“Baby—”
Tears stung her eyes, but they were more angry than sentimental ones. “You lying, cheating, no-good, trifling bastard.” She wrenched the ring from her finger and tossed it at him. Eyeing Natalie, she said, “He’s all yours. The wedding is off.”
Cyrus grabbed her arm. “No, you don’t mean that.”
A second later Tony—her three-hundred-pound ex-lineman cousin—clapped a large hand on Cyrus’s sho
ulder. The look in his eyes suggested Cyrus release her now.
Obviously, Cyrus got the silent message, because his grip on her arm loosened, then fell away.
Several family members—including her visibly livid mother—swarmed around Cyrus like bees on the attack. They stung him with their not-so-gentle words of disapproval. As the room erupted in utter chaos, Tressa made her escape. She’d asked for a sign and, boy, had she got it.
CHAPTER 2
Amid all of the chaos, Roth eyed Tressa weaving her way through the room and toward the exit. She brushed past the outstretched hands of individuals undoubtedly offering their comfort and support. He tore down the stairs after her, but by the time he made it outside, she was nowhere in sight. Where in the hell had she vanished to so damn suddenly?
He squinted against the dark for any sign of movement. Nothing.
When the door banged open behind him and Cyrus’s snake ass slithered out, dragging his hideous mistress behind him, Roth’s jaw tightened in disgust.
Cyrus slid a razor-sharp glance in Roth’s direction. Roth readied himself for a confrontation, but Cyrus only flashed a scornful expression, then escaped in the opposite direction.
After hanging around another half hour or so—just to see if Tressa resurfaced—he decided to head out, leaving instructions for Alonso to call him the minute he heard anything. Yanking open the door of his SUV, Roth slid behind the wheel and slumped in the seat. A part of him wanted to start the engine and follow through with his plans to leave, while another part of him—a much greater portion—wanted to hang back to make sure Tressa was okay.
He abandoned the idea of staying. Tressa definitely didn’t need him to further complicate her life. Given what she’d just gone through, he was certain he was the last person she wanted to see. Not because he’d been in any way responsible for the debacle that had taken place, but because he was a man. And at this point she more than likely hated the entire male species.
And who could blame her? He’d certainly held a discord for the female population when he’d got his heart broken several years ago. Then he’d met Tressa a few months back and feelings he’d long abandoned rushed him like water released from a dam.
Four months.
Roth shook his head. That slimy bastard had cheated on Tressa almost their entire relationship. Via Alonso, he’d learned Tressa and that clown Cyrus had only dated a short time before they’d become engaged. Why even propose if he knew he had no intentions of being faithful?
Why would any man in his right mind sacrifice a woman like Tressa?
Roth recalled the expression on Tressa’s face as she darted from the room. A mix of confusion and pain danced in her usually sparkling eyes. At that moment he really wanted to hurt Cyrus, if for nothing more than dimming her glow.
“Are we leaving?”
Roth jolted, then whipped around to see Tressa stretched across his back seat. What the… How in the hell had he missed seeing her when he’d got in? Preoccupied, he told himself. Damn. She’d nearly given him a heart attack.
Activating the interior lights, he scanned her body as if looking for any damage. When he saw her red, puffy eyes, he fought the urge to climb over the center console and pull her into his comforting arms. And though she had every right to cry, he wanted to advise her not to waste her tears on a lowlife like Cyrus.
Roth’s words were gentle when he spoke. “Everyone is looking for you.”
She hugged her arms around her body. “I don’t want to be found. I can’t handle the looks and whispers right now.”
Being the voice of reason, he said, “People are worried about you, Tressa. They just want to know that you’re all right. You really should—”
“Roth, please. Spare me the lecture. I don’t have my car here. I need to go. Can you just get me away from here? Just drive. Please.” Her voice was low, but screamed of exhaustion.
Tressa’s sad, pleading eyes tugged at his heart. Who could blame her for wanting to avoid being poked and prodded like a lab rat by people’s stares of pity? Facing forward, he cranked the engine, popped the gearshift into Drive and pulled away.
Silence filled the car for the first few minutes. Roth avoided plying her with the usual pacifiers: it’s going to be okay, the pain will go away, look on the bright side. Instead, he stayed quiet because no words could ease the sting of betrayal. Only time could do that.
Roth adjusted the rearview mirror so that it settled on Tressa’s face. He hated seeing her this way, a sad replica of her customarily jovial self. “Maybe we should call Vivian to let her know you’re okay. She was really worried about you.”
Tressa’s eyes landed on his. Even through the reflection, their connection rang intense. Everything and nothing had changed. Though she’d ended her engagement, she was still off-limits. Maybe even more so now.
“I will,” was all she said before sliding her gaze away.
“Should I take you home?”
“No. He’ll probably be at my place. I don’t want to see him. Ever.”
Roth washed a hand over his mouth as if he was ironing his goatee. All he wanted to do was make her smile—laugh even. But he doubted anything he could have said or done would have accomplished that.
“Were you going to the mountains alone?”
An hour ago the answer would have been yes. But once he’d walked away from her on the balcony, he’d discovered a need for something—or in this case, someone—to take his mind off her. Still, he responded, “Yes, I’m going alone.”
“You don’t have a very good poker face.”
Damn. She’d read him. Now he felt like a complete ass. All she needed was another man lying to her. “Why?”
“I guess because you don’t lie enough to pull it off.”
He chuckled. She was right. Since lying was what people had done to him most of his life, he valued the truth more than most. But that wasn’t the why he meant. “Not that. Why did you ask if I was going alone?”
Her gaze fixed on his again. She didn’t need to answer for him to know she wanted an invite to his cabin. If her goal was to hide from the world, it would be the perfect escape for her. No one would find her in Silver Point. An hour ago the idea of him and Tressa running off together would have been damn appealing, but now it reeked of trouble. “Maybe you’d prefer a hotel? You wouldn’t—”
“You don’t want to be saddled with a jilted ex-bride-to-be. I get it.”
Damn. Why did she have to make it sound so morbid? “That’s not it, Tr—”
“Just drop me off at the nearest hotel. I’ve dealt with scarier things. I’ll be fine.”
Scarier things? What scarier things had she dealt with?
Ten minutes later they pulled up in front of the De Lore Hotel in downtown Raleigh. The sprawling building was the epitome of luxury. He’d heard nothing but great things about it. It even looked fancy. Concierge, bellmen, greeters. Tressa would be comfortable here. Much more comfortable than at his cramped cabin.
Why in the hell did he sound like he was trying to convince himself? And why did the idea of leaving her here alone bother him so damn much? It wasn’t like he was abandoning her. She would be okay, right?
Once she was checked in, he’d call Vivian to come and comfort her. Her best friend was who she needed, not the man who constantly fantasized about making love to her. Roth brushed a hand over his close-cut hair.
A young man who’d been standing at what looked like a podium and dressed in a black overcoat and gloves approached his SUV. When Roth lowered the window a gust of cold air rushed in. He welcomed the brisk breeze because it felt as if his system was overheating.
“Good evening, sir. Welcome to the De Lore Hotel. Will you be staying with us this evening?”
“Ah…” Shit. Spit it out, Lex. Say yes, she will. Say it. His gaz
e slid to Tressa. When she rested her hand on the door handle to open it, his heart raced. Don’t do it, man. Don’t do it. “Actually, no. Maybe another time. Thank you.” The window rose and he pulled off, leaving the man standing there.
Roth swiped his thumb back and forth against the steering wheel. What in the hell are you doing? This woman of all women should not be in your back seat. And taking her to the cabin? The cabin’s your sanctuary.
A significant thought occurred to him. What about the nightmares? His past had a way of haunting him in his dreams. All he needed was to wake up screaming at the top of his lungs. It would scare the hell out of Tressa and embarrass the hell out of him. An occurrence like that would break two of his cardinal rules: never show vulnerability and always maintain control. He’d learned a long time ago that being vulnerable got you hurt and losing control made you rash.
Her being at the cabin with him period would break the third: always wake up alone.
Two days. He could handle two days cooped up with the woman he’d dreamed about, fantasized about since the first day they met. Two days. No problem. Hell, it wasn’t like he could actually make a move now anyway. That would be a shit thing to do. She was vulnerable, grieving and probably out for a little sexual revenge.
The last point gave him pause. Sexual revenge. A woman scorned was capable of anything, right? Well, he’d never played the role of the rebound guy, and he wouldn’t start now. Not even for Tressa. That alone should keep his libido in check.
“Thank you, Roth. I promise I won’t get in your way.”
He met Tressa’s tender gaze through the rearview mirror and his heartbeat kicked up just a notch. Oh, you’re already getting in my way. Influencing him to make bad decisions, testing his resolve, reminding him how it felt to crave something unattainable. “You’ll like Silver Point,” was all he said.
Roth swiped his thumb back and forth across the steering wheel, lost in his thoughts. This was the stupidest thing he’d done in a long while. Reckless, even. He couldn’t be alone with Tressa. Yes, he had self-control, plenty of self-control. But this would require a whole lot of self-discipline.
