by Jill Shalvis
She turned away and scrubbed at the yogurt stain with a napkin. Though the stain didn’t come off, she slipped the jacket back on anyway. Buttoning it, her back to him, she softly said, “You scare me.”
“Does it help to know you scare me, too?”
“Actually, ‘scare’ isn’t a strong enough word,” she clarified. “Terrify works better.”
He came up behind her, torturing himself with the feel of her spine and curved bottom against his chest and groin.
At the contact, her fingers fumbled on her buttons.
Reaching around her, he brushed her hands away and took over the task. “It’s not like you to be so fidgety.”
“I’m nervous. Marriage proposals do that to me.”
Surrounding her as he was, he could hear her every breath, could smell her sweet, sexy scent. Felt her small tremors. Wildly protective emotions rose in him, powerful and suddenly certain. “Amber…” His arms folded around her. His mouth found its way to her ear and was heading toward her jaw when she straightened.
“I’m having enough trouble keeping my thoughts together,” she said shakily, facing him, pressing her hands to her heart. “If I let you kiss me now, I don’t know what will happen.”
“Really?” That pleased him. “What could happen?”
“You know very well what.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know all you have to do is look at me and my thoughts scatter. I certainly can’t concentrate when you put your mouth on me. I can hardly breathe.”
His smile spread a bit. “Maybe you concentrate too much.”
“Yes, well, it’s a bad habit of mine.”
“Are you ever going to answer the question?”
She drew a deep breath. “I know it’s rude, but I need some air.”
“You need to think.”
“Yes.”
Well-versed in this particular play, he followed her out, but she was stopped by Nancy at the front desk and handed a stack of messages that made her sigh.
Dax watched while she flipped through them with quick impatience. And saw her, really saw her-the weary eyes, the slight bruises beneath them, the tension in her body.
She was truly exhausted.
Nancy added a pile of files that needed immediate attention. On top of that, she placed a virtual mountain of correspondence, all of which required review and a signature.
It had to be at least a week’s worth of work.
Amber took everything stoically, she even managed a smile for her employee, but Dax saw right through her.
“Put it in your office and let’s go,” he said quietly.
Nancy held up a finger before Amber could move. “The Garrisons. They want to see that property again.”
“Terrific,” Amber muttered.
“Today.”
“They’ve seen it five times this week.”
“I know. But they want to see it again and they want to see it with you.”
Amber drew in a slow, purposeful breath, and Dax wondered how it was that only he saw her growing exhaustion. He knew how hard she worked, knew how much time Taylor demanded, and added it all up.
It equaled a breakdown for Amber.
“Call them then,” she said wearily. “Tell them I’ll pick them up at-”
“Tell them they can see the damn property by themselves,” Dax interjected. He took the stack of work from Amber’s arms. “You’ve done enough today. You’re taking off.”
Both Amber and Nancy stared at him.
“Ms. Riggs is leaving for the day,” he announced for anyone listening. “She won’t be back until morning.”
“I will most definitely be back today,” Amber said, her eyes on Dax. “I just need some air.”
“You’re going to get your air.” Dax smiled his most charming smile. “But you won’t be back today.” Taking her hand in a grip of steel, he tugged her from the office.
“Dax…would you stop!” Her heels clicked noisily as she raced along beside him. “I have important business to attend to.”
“You most certainly do,” he assured her, ruthlessly tugging her along. “We were in the middle of something.”
“I know, but I can’t just leave, not now-”
“Your air,” he reminded her. “You needed to get out so fast you couldn’t answer my question. Remember?”
Her lips tightened, but she remained silent until they exited the building.
It was a glorious Southern California day. The sky was a deep, brilliant blue and scattered across it were little puffs of white clouds.
A picture-perfect scene.
Now if only the woman next to him could slow down enough to enjoy it.
Instead, she spun on her heels away from him and started walking.
Dax spared a moment to admire her stride. “I’m coming with you,” he called.
“Like I could stop you.”
He moved to keep up with her. She was pale, but never faltered. The slight wind tossed her hair, played with the hem of her skirt. Dax avoided thinking by concentrating on traffic. He avoided touching Amber by keeping his hands in his pockets.
Three blocks later, they came to a park. All green and woodsy, it had a series of trails and welcoming benches. A perfect place to ask a woman-for the third time-to marry him.
A perfect place for his future to be decided.
They were hidden from the street by trees. The sounds of birds singing drowned out any traffic they might have heard. They were alone, isolated, surrounded by beauty.
“Well,” he said after a moment.
“Well.”
They stared at each other stupidly, and Dax wondered if she could possibly be as attracted, as confused, as totally, irreversibly in love as he was.
Then he saw the unmistakable signs-red-rimmed eyes and damp lashes.
Dammit.
“I’ve thought about…you know,” she said, her voice a bit ragged.
“You mean about spending the rest of your life with me?” he asked gently. “Is that why you’re crying?”
She looked away. “It’s been hard being a single parent. No family support, few friends. Both are my fault, but it’s fact.” Then she turned back to him. “Having you in my life, taking responsibility for helping with Taylor, it’s been a real gift.”
“But?”
“But I can’t accept your offer. It’s generous, kind and almost overwhelmingly irresistible, but as I told you before, I can’t do it.”
“Mind if I ask why?”
“It’s obvious neither of us were meant for marriage.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said softly. “And I don’t believe you believe it. Don’t chicken out here, Amber. Don’t hide, not from me. Tell me the truth. I deserve that much.”
“You know the truth. I’m not marriage material, and you…you like women too much to give it all up just because we have a baby.”
“First of all, I stopped looking at other women the moment you came into my life.”
“Which time?”
“Both,” he told her grimly.
“I understand getting married is a logical solution to the unexpected unit we’ve become.” She hugged herself. “We have a baby. We both love her with all our hearts. We’re willing to share her, but the truth is, neither of us really want to be separated from her. Getting married would solve that.”
“Yes,” he agreed, sliding closer. “It would also solve another, deeper problem.”
“Which is?”
“I want you.”
“You-” She closed her eyes. “You just had me recently. A few times as a matter of fact.”
The memory, as well as her tone, made him smile. “I want more than sex,” he clarified. Because the admission was a new one for him, and scary, his humor vanished. “I’ve never said this before about anyone else, but sex with you isn’t enough. I want to spend nights together. I want to be together. I know we started out in a whirlwind, that w
e’ve done everything backward, but let’s fix it.”
“Marriage won’t do that, Dax.”
“Why are you so resistant?”
“Because…because, dammit, it’s not enough for me!” She blushed and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know this sounds stupid, but to me a marriage should be about…about love. I’ve never thought of myself in those terms, but deep in my heart, if I’m going to do it, that’s what I want.”
“Love.”
“That’s right.”
“Well that’s convenient, since I happen to be madly in love with you.”
“What?” She flew to her feet and stared at him as if she’d just discovered he was an alien. “What did you just say?”
He stood, too, and when she would have turned away, he took her shoulders in his hands. She trembled. That made two of them. “I think you heard me just fine.”
“I’ve…I’ve never heard those words before.” Her voice was a mere whisper. She licked her lips. “I’d like to hear them again.”
His heart threatened to burst out of his chest. “I love you.”
“You can’t.”
“Why not? You’re perfectly lovable.”
Her mouth was open, her eyes wild. Her hand went to her chest. “Oh God. Now I can’t breathe.”
“Good. Neither can I.” He resisted the urge to laugh because he wasn’t kidding. He really couldn’t breathe. “I’ve never said those words to a woman before, Amber.”
They stared at each other.
“You’re mistaken,” she decided tremulously. “You have to be.”
“No.”
“You have no idea. I don’t let people in, I’m not-”
“Amber.” It was so easy, so right to touch her, he thought, as his thumb gently stroked her jaw. His fingers slipped into her hair. “I’ve loved you from that very first day.”
“But I don’t know how to love you back.”
“You could practice.”
Moisture gathered in her beautiful eyes and she shook her head back and forth.
“Practice with me, Amber,” he whispered, his heart raw.
Her eyes were huge. “I’m not ready. I need time.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know!”
Because she was still shaking, he gathered her stiff body close. “I’m sorry,” she whispered against his chest, but her hands snaked around his neck and for a moment, she clung.
He stroked her back and tamped down any regrets. “Don’t worry. It so happens, time is in plentiful supply.”
And strange as it seemed, given she’d turned him down yet again, Dax felt an inkling of hope for their future.
12
T HAT NIGHT , Dax lay in his bed staring at the ceiling wondering how long it would take for sleep to claim him when the phone rang.
Given how his heart picked up speed, he knew who it would be. “Hello?”
“Did you mean it?”
Amber. Unsure and unhappy. “I meant every one of those three little words,” he assured her grimly.
“Another promise?”
“Another promise.”
There was a long silence, and he knew she was very busy thinking.
“Have I broken one to you yet, Amber?”
“No,” she said slowly, but she sounded slightly reassured. “I have to go.”
His heart twisted, a feeling he was beginning to associate with her. “Good night, Amber,” he whispered.
D AX FOUND Amber at what he now knew to be her favorite lunch spot. He grinned at her bowl of strawberry yogurt. “Are you going to let me watch you eat that?”
She stopped licking her spoon and eyed him over the bowl with an interesting mix of pleasure and wariness. The wariness he expected because it had been four days since he’d sought her out.
The pleasure was a nice surprise.
“No,” she finally said.
Ignoring that, because whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was crazy about him, he swiveled a chair around and straddled it. Leaning forward, he took in her cool, sedate, navy blue suit. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to spill again so that you could lose the uptight clothes.”
Surprising him, she laughed. “Actually, I thought of you this morning when I put this on.”
“Yeah?” For some reason, that gave him ridiculous pleasure. So did the thought of her standing, fresh out of a shower, naked, thinking of him.
Her voice was low. “I thought of it as my armor.”
“Against?”
She played with the yogurt now. “Sometimes you give me a certain look and it makes me feel…funny.”
He gave her one of those looks now and the air sizzled between them.
“That’s the one,” she said a bit shakily, pointing at him with her spoon. “That’s it right there.”
“Do you feel funny now?”
“A little, yeah.”
“Me, too.” He heard the rough arousal in his voice and couldn’t stop himself. “And it has nothing to do with the clothes you wear.” He leaned close. “You could put on real armor and it wouldn’t matter one damn bit.”
Her eyes closed briefly, and he knew he didn’t mistake that quick flash of helpless desire on her face before she carefully masked it and rose. “I have work.”
He touched her arm, stilled her. “You can believe in me, Amber. Believe in yourself enough to see it.”
“I’m trying, Dax. Whatever you think of me, I want you to know that.”
He rose, too, and skimmed his fingers over her cheek. “I know you’ve had no one to trust with yourself before, but I promise you, I’m different.”
And then, because they were in the crowded café, and because neither of them were quite steady, he stepped back. “Think about it.”
A MBER WANTED to do nothing but think about it. As she entered her office, her mind whirled. She moved toward her desk and the mountain of work waiting for her.
Halfway there, the earth rumbled beneath her feet. For a second she allowed herself to believe it was her overly active imagination.
It wasn’t. The earthquake was short and quick, and absolutely terrifying.
There had been many this year, and she remembered each and every one of them because they’d brought on a heart-stopping panic she couldn’t control.
A normal reaction for someone who’d been through what she had, she assured herself, gripping her desk, prepared to dive under it if necessary.
“It’s okay,” she said out loud as she waited, tense and frozen. “Just an aftershock.” She knew they could occur for years after a main quake. The knowledge didn’t help. Many people in the area had been terrorized by the aftershocks, not just her. It was normal.
Normal.
She told herself all of this, repeatedly, but she still forgot to breathe and her chest hurt. Her vision spotted.
And though it was over long before she even fully registered it, she remained there, rigid, heart drumming, palms damp, shaking like a leaf.
The door to her office opened and shut, and suddenly Dax was standing there, saying her name in that deep, wonderful voice.
“I came the second I felt it,” he said. “I was still on the street. I thought-I didn’t know how you would feel-Dammit, I hate those things!” he exclaimed, taking her arms in his strong, reassuring hands. “Are you all right?”
“Certainly.” But she clung to his big, welcoming body. Just for a moment, she told herself. She’d allow herself to lean on him for just a moment. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t.” With a gentleness that was so tender, so sweet it hurt, he curled a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Don’t fake being strong for me.”
“It was just an aftershock. Hardly even big enough to register on the scale.”
“It registered on my scale,” came his gruff reply, and for the first time she heard his breathlessness, felt the quiver in his own muscles, and realized he felt the fear, too.
She gave herself permission to hold hi
m for another moment.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, gathering her tighter, absorbing her weight with ease. “We’re okay.”
“Taylor,” she said, lifting her head. Urgency overcame her. “I want to call-”
“We will. Soon as I can remember my mother’s phone number. We’ll go get her together, okay? Amber, just hold onto me for a second.”
We’ll go get her.
We’ll.
Together.
For some reason, the words softened her as nothing else could have and she let out a lungful of air, burying her face in the wonderful spot of his neck that seemed meant for her. “Don’t be afraid,” she told him. “I have a big, tough desk. It’ll hold.”
He laughed, as she had meant for him to, and somehow that softened her even more so that her arms wrapped even tighter around him.
“We’re both shaking like leaves,” he muttered, sinking with her to the floor. “I really hate earthquakes.”
“Just for the record here,” she wondered. “Who’s comforting who?”
“I’m not sure, just don’t let go.”
She didn’t. They sat huddled on the floor in each other’s arms like two little children. Her legs were entwined with his, her skirt high on her thighs. His hands were on her back, slowly running up and down in a reassuring gesture that hadn’t been anything but sincerely comforting, until his hands slipped beneath her jacket to the silk of her blouse.
The embrace shifted, became charged with erotic awareness, and Amber lifted her head to stare at him, into his warm eyes, then at his mouth, the one she suddenly wanted on hers. The shattering, shocking truth was, she wanted that more than she wanted her own next breath.
Dax groaned and closed his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s dangerous to my health.”
For the life of her, she couldn’t remember why she’d wanted to hold him at arm’s length, couldn’t remember why she was trying so hard to resist this magnetic pull she felt whenever she was with him.
Hell, she was starting to have that pull even when she wasn’t with him.
