Don't Walk Away

by Elle Kennedy

  “I knew her when I was younger,” Dean admitted. “And yeah, I loved her.”

  The bleak note in his voice thawed some of Suz’s anger. Sighing, she turned toward the kitchen and grabbed a second spoon, then returned to the couch and tossed it his way.

  “I didn’t know,” she said with another sigh.

  “Yeah. You didn’t.”

  After a beat of hesitation, she curled up next to him. They both stuck their spoons into the container, clicking metal together briefly as they drowned their sorrows in sugar and fat.

  “What happened between you two?” she finally asked.

  Dean licked ice cream off the corner of his mouth then sprawled backward, arms flung to the side. He tilted his head toward her and the look in his eyes—heartbreaking.

  “I left her.”

  Suz narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean, you left her?”

  “Exactly what it sounds like.” His expression swam with regret. “We were in love, and I walked out on her. I had my reasons, but I really don’t want to get into them right now, so please, don’t bust my balls about this. I was a selfish kid, all right? I left her, and I hurt her, and I spent years trying to apologize for it, but she didn’t want to hear it.”

  Suz wasn’t sure she blamed her. Emma came off as tough and confident, but it was easy to see the woman had a vulnerable interior. “Did she hear it tonight?”

  Dean nodded, and his gray eyes grew pained. “Not that it mattered. She accepted my apology, but she has no interest in seeing me again.”

  “Do you want to see her again?” Suz wrinkled her forehead. “You just said you’ve been waiting for a chance to apologize. Well, you apologized. What more do you have to say?”

  His strong jaw tightened in that determined line Suz had seen countless times before. Uh-oh. She knew that look.

  “I want her to see that I’ve changed. That I’m not a selfish jerk.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I just…I can’t have her thinking I’m some kind of…I don’t know…asshole, I guess.”

  “I see.”

  Dean stiffened. “Why are you grinning?”

  She was grinning? Suz honestly hadn’t realized it. But she couldn’t deny she suddenly found this highly entertaining.

  “You still have feelings for her.” It was impossible to contain her delight.

  He looked stricken. “What? No. I mean, I’ll always care about her, obviously. But this isn’t about trying to hook up with her. It’s about proving to Emma that I’m different now.”

  “Why do you have to prove anything?” Suz countered.

  “Because…because I just do,” he sputtered. “We grew up together, okay? We were together for three years. Maybe it makes me an egotistical bastard, but I can’t stand the thought of Emma hating me or thinking I’m some kind of creep.”

  “Uh-huh. Sounds like you don’t have feelings for her at all.”

  Dean stuck his spoon in the cartoon, then shoved a full scoop into his mouth. His agitation was visible, which only made Suz grin harder. Oh shit. Never in a million years had she expected this day to come, but here it was.

  Dean Colter, the manwhore of the century, was tied up in knots over a woman. A woman he’d probably never stopped loving.

  And he didn’t even realize it.

  Chapter Seven

  Routine. It was Emma’s favorite word, and the one thing she forced herself to stick to whenever the anxiety started creeping in. Breathing exercises and meditation helped, but she’d found the best way to stop her mind from dwelling on the stresses of life was to utilize tried-and-true methods of distraction.

  That meant keeping to the schedule she’d set for herself and doing all her usual activities even when her heart wasn’t into it, which was why she was currently riding the elevator down to the lobby, decked out in her running gear. She ran two miles every other morning, rain or shine, happy or sad.

  This morning happened to be both rainy and sad, but damned if she would let Dean Colter send her spiraling into a depression. After she’d all but kicked him out, she’d spent the rest of the weekend moping and crying, same way she’d moped and cried eleven years ago when he’d skipped town.

  But enough was enough. She wasn’t a heartsick teenager anymore. She was a grown woman, and it was time to forget about Dean. She’d managed it once, and this second time around would be even easier, because at least now she knew why he’d left her. The knowledge that she hadn’t done anything to drive him away had come as a genuine relief, but that didn’t mean she wanted to rekindle their relationship. That ship had long sailed.

  “Morning, Ms. Lee.” The doorman at the hotel’s back doors greeted her with a smile.

  She smiled back. “Morning, Sam.”

  He held open the door, frowning at the overcast sky. “Be careful out there today. It might be slippery.”

  “I’ll be okay. I’m heading to the running path by the beach.” She waved goodbye and stepped into the misty morning air, her sneakers smacking the wet pavement as she jogged along the path that led to the waterfront.

  It was cold, but nowhere near as cold as it was in New York right now. She almost wished she’d planned this San Francisco trip for after the New Year, so she could avoid the typically frigid January and February in Manhattan. But no, it was better this way. Work was always slower during the holidays, which meant she didn’t have to keep too close of an eye on Lorenzo right now. Once things got hectic again, she’d need to stick to that man like glue, before he destroyed everything she’d worked so hard for.

  Emma’s ponytail slapped between her shoulder blades as she ran. She’d forgotten her iPod, so she had to settle for a soundtrack of crashing waves and squawking seagulls, which she found oddly relaxing. She’d just reached the running path when the thud of footsteps interrupted the peaceful sounds of nature.

  A dark shadow crossed her peripheral vision, and when she turned her head, her jaw fell open. “What the—?”

  “Hey, Em,” Dean said cheerfully. “Nice day for a run, huh?”

  She stopped in her tracks like a cartoon character, whirling to stare at him. “Oh my God. Are you following me?”

  “Of course not. I was out on my morning run and saw you, so I figured I’d come over and say hi.”

  She appraised his outfit—faded blue jeans and a black T-shirt—then met his eyes. “You run in jeans?”

  Those gray eyes twinkled. “Yup.”

  “Bullshit.” She crossed her arms over the front of her T-shirt. “This is…it’s nuts! You broke into my suite on Saturday night, and now you’re lurking outside the hotel waiting for me to come out? You realize this is textbook stalking behavior, right?”

  “What, are you going to have me arrested, Em?”

  Dean flashed a familiar grin that made her heart ache. It was that crooked, little-boy smile he’d mastered back in the day, the one that always summoned an answering smile from her.

  But not today. Today she frowned. “I should,” she shot back. “Just on principle alone.”

  “By the way,” he added, as if she hadn’t spoken, “you really should return Suz’s calls. She thinks you hate her.”

  Emma’s frown wavered as a pang of guilt tugged at her belly. Crap. As much as she hated thinking it, Dean was right. Suz had been calling nonstop this weekend, but Emma had ignored each call. She hadn’t felt like dealing with all the questions her friend would undoubtedly have about Emma’s past with Dean, but now she realized her silence had sent the wrong message.

  She didn’t hate Suz. Having Dean show up at her door had been a serious shock, but it had also been a misunderstanding on Suz’s part. The poor woman had thought she was setting Emma up with the hot stranger she’d spoken to at the party. Suz had no way of knowing she was purchasing two tickets for an unwelcome trip down memory lane.

  Emma stepped aside as a group of ladies jogged past, their ponytailed heads swiveling one by one toward where Dean stood on the opposite end of the path.

  “I
don’t hate her,” Emma said, softening her tone. “But thanks for the heads-up—I’ll call her the moment I’m back from my run.”

  “Our run,” he corrected.

  And…he pushed the wrong buttons again, and she bristled. “I’m not running with you.”

  “Why? You scared you won’t be able to keep up?”

  Dean jogged in place for a few seconds, and Emma’s traitorous gaze watched the enticing flexing of his biceps as he pumped his arms. Damn it, she knew why those women had done a double take just now. As a teenager, Dean had been tall and lanky, but he’d filled out over the years. Pure masculine muscle, and the dark stubble shadowing his jaw gave him a bad-boy edge that shouldn’t have made her heart flutter—but did.

  God. She had to stop this. It was bad enough she’d kissed him at the party. But at least that night she hadn’t known it was Dean she was kissing. Now she knew exactly who he was, and her annoying body was still responding. Her fingers still itched to stroke the roped muscles of his arms. Her lips still ached to taste him.

  “Trust me, I can keep up,” she said tightly.

  He grinned again. “Then let’s quit dilly-dallying and do some running.”

  Clearly he wasn’t going away, so Emma did the only thing she could think of—she took off in a near sprint. It was a hell of a lot better than standing around in the rain talking to the man. At least this way, conversation would be kept to a minimum because they’d both be breathing too hard to talk.

  Except she underestimated Dean’s ability to multitask. Despite the rapid pace she’d set, his breathing stayed steady and words continued to flow out of his mouth.

  “So how’s the design business going?”

  “Fine,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “I did some research last night,” he informed her as they tore down the path. “Man, Em, you totally hit the jackpot with your job. The Fire and Ice design label was all over the fashion news pages I checked out. Been burning up the scene for the past five years, your boss. What’s his name? Laurie?”

  Emma hoped he didn’t notice the way her shoulders tensed. “Lorenzo Fuoco.”

  “Italian. Ha, his last name means fire, I just caught that. Awesome branding.” Dean gave her a sidelong look. “Good for you for getting on with someone who’s rocking it so hard.”

  This was the last thing Emma felt like discussing, and there was a bitter taste in her mouth at being praised for bullshit. She slowed slightly, her response coming out sharper than she’d intended. “I really don’t want to talk about that, Dean. I run to clear my mind and not think about work.”

  “Fair enough.” He had to adjust his long strides to match her pace. “Do you want to know about my business then?”

  “Not really.” She kept looking straight ahead, her legs moving briskly as a light drizzle of rain fell overhead.

  Dean wasn’t fazed by her response. “You’re not even the least bit curious to know how I wound up owning a dating service?”

  Argh. He had her there. She was curious, partly because it was a fabulous distraction from the hellhole she’d fallen into with Fire and Ice. She kind of wished she’d paid more attention when Suz had told her about DreamMakers, but Emma hadn’t been interested at the time. Hell, she shouldn’t care one bit now. So what if Dean had gone into the last possible line of work she would have expected?

  “It was partly because of you,” he added, and damn it, but now her curiosity skyrocketed.

  “How so?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Remember when you were in junior year and I was planning that date for our two-year anniversary?”

  A wave of nostalgia washed over her. She hated herself for feeling it, but it was impossible not to. It had been a good date. A really good date. “Yeah, I remember,” she said grudgingly.

  He chuckled. “Then that means you remember the list you gave me, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  She found herself laughing as she thought about the very detailed list she’d provided Dean with when he’d informed her he was taking her out for their anniversary. She’d listed everything from her favorite food to her favorite flower, along with tips about what to wear and a review of every restaurant she liked in town.

  “At the time I thought you were being high-maintenance and anal about it,” he confessed, his eyes gleaming playfully as he turned to smile at her. “But honestly? That list was a fucking godsend. I was totally clueless about where to take you.”

  “Duh. That’s why I helped you out.”

  He chuckled again. “Well, that’s kind of how DreamMakers came to be. Parker, Jack, and I had just finished our second tour of duty, and we were out at the bar with a couple of our army buddies. One of them was bitching about how he had no clue what to do for his girl for their anniversary, and that’s when I remembered your list.” He shrugged, which caused his smooth gait to falter for a beat. “I started grilling him about his girl’s personality, favorite food, music, all that stuff, and it was unbelievable how little he knew about her.”

  Emma slowed down, annoyed with herself because she was enjoying this conversation way too much. “So you gave him some tips?”

  “Yup. And then later, Parker was like, dude, I think we might be on to something here. We’d been going back and forth about what to do with our lives at that point. Jack wanted to open a security company, but there’s already like a million of those on the West Coast, so we were on the fence about it.” Dean grinned. “Parker pointed out that the West Coast also has a million clueless men who have no idea how to be romantic, and that was a market we could definitely tap into. So we opened DreamMakers.”

  “And turned it into a big success, according to Suz.”

  He nodded. “We’re doing pretty well. I never expected it to take off, but sometimes life surprises you.”

  Ha. Understatement of the year. Eleven years ago, she’d been poking needles into a voodoo doll of Dean Colter, and today she was out on a morning run with him.

  Life was chock-full of surprises, all right.

  She was so fucking beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. Emma had always been gorgeous, though. The combination of her Native American and Chinese heritage had created an exquisite package that had captivated Dean from the moment Emma’s family had moved to town when she was thirteen. He’d lusted over her since the age of fourteen, and clearly nothing had changed, because his body was responding to grown-up Emma as much as it had to the younger one.

  Jogging with a semi hard-on was difficult as hell. He hoped his jeans were hiding the evidence of his arousal, because the last thing he wanted to do was scare Emma off. Not when they were actually connecting.

  At the half-mile mark, her reluctance to engage in conversation had all but faded away. When they hit a mile, she even started talking back instead of just listening. She told him about her time abroad, while he regaled her with funny DreamMakers stories that brought more than one gorgeous smile to her lips.

  She was warming up, and damned if that didn’t make his heart do crazy dolphin flips. Every time she laughed, his chest squeezed because it had been so long since he’d heard that melodic sound, so long since he’d seen her brown eyes shine with humor.

  By the time they got back to the hotel, he could no longer deny the truth: he’d missed her. Emma was the only girl he’d ever opened up to—about his family, his fears, his dreams. After their relationship had ended, he’d played the field—and played it hard—but no woman had been able to keep his attention the way Emma had. No woman had ever made him…feel anything.

  “Can we do this again?”

  He blurted out the question before he could stop himself, cutting Emma off mid-sentence as she was telling him about the first time she’d visited Dubai.

  She blinked, and just like that, the ease of her body language dissolved into tension. “Dean…” She trailed off warily, pausing near a potted plant outside the hotel doors.

  “Come on, Em, you can’t tell me you haven’t been enj
oying this,” he said, trying not to cringe at the pleading note in his voice.

  Reluctance creased her forehead. “I…okay, fine, I won’t lie. It’s been nice catching up, nicer than I expected, but…”

  “But nothing,” he said firmly. “There’s so much more I want to know about you, and your life, and…” He swallowed, wondering where his game had gone. Usually he had an endless well of charm, but with Emma, he felt like a nervous teenager all over again. “It doesn’t have to be a date or anything. We’ll just hang out as friends. Grab a coffee, or maybe go for a run again…”

  Those bottomless dark eyes flickered with hesitation. “Friends,” she echoed, as if she were testing the word out for size. “I don’t know…”

  But he could see her resistance crumbling, and when a slight smile curved her lips, he knew he’d won her over.

  “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad,” she admitted. “Maybe you, me, and Suz could have dinner one night or something.”

  He quickly masked his disappointment. Had no choice, really, since he was the one who’d dropped the F-word. Friends. Which meant he wasn’t allowed to be upset that she wanted Suz to come along. Besides, start small, right? They could hang out with Suz a hundred times if that’s what Emma wanted, but eventually there’d come a time when Suz was busy, and then the two of them could…

  Could what? Fuck? Get back together? He had no idea what he even wanted from Emma. Her forgiveness, definitely. Sex, well, sure, he wouldn’t run screaming if by some miracle she wanted to get naked with him. But what was most important was convincing her that he wasn’t a heartless bastard.

  He didn’t care what other people thought about him except for a select few whose opinions mattered deeply. Parker. Jack. Suz.

  And Emma.

  He wanted her to know…no, he needed her to know that he’d changed. He didn’t run away from his problems anymore. He didn’t hurt the people he cared about, and hurting her was the biggest regret of his life.