by Johnson, Cat
I leaned back against the soft backrest, crossing my legs. The fun was about to start. “Okay. What do you want to know?”
He arched an eyebrow, taken aback by my directness. “What have you been doing since we last spoke?”
I was about to ask if Jamie hadn’t told him already, then I stopped myself. I was an idiot! Jamie wouldn’t talk about me unless Harper asked. Despite what he’d said, I was having second thoughts now. I couldn’t have meant much to him if he hadn’t bothered to call me all these years.
I shrugged. Better get this over with. “Nothing much. I went to college on a sports scholarship, got married, took my dad’s place as a shooting trainer when he retired, got divorced, and here I am. Does that cover everything?”
4
Oddly enough, he didn’t seem surprised. He didn’t go for the usual platitudes, saying he was sorry that my lousy marriage hadn’t worked out. Instead, he just watched me steadily.
“Why did you get a divorce?”
I glanced out the window. “Oh, the old cliché. Husband lands with his dick in another woman, less than a year after we got married. He called it an office romance, complained that he was under a lot of pressure at work, blah-blah.”
“He was an idiot,” he stated dryly.
“He was a lawyer.”
He raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely confused. “Is that relevant?”
“You tell me. You’re one too. I’m curious if you guys have a club or something.”
He actually gaped at me, brow furrowed. “Wait. Are you saying… What are you saying? That all lawyers are cheating scumbags?”
“I couldn’t possibly know that. I don’t know any other lawyers besides you and Brad.”
He leaned back in his seat, looking half-amused, half-pissed off. “That’s an inappropriate analogy, don’t you think? It’s like me saying that all people who handle guns are trigger-happy psychos.”
“Not really. It would be different if I didn’t know all the stories about you, Mr. Pathological Flirt.”
Too late I realized I’d put my foot in it—actually, it was a kick in Jamie’s ass that she didn’t deserve.
Harper’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What stories, exactly?”
Absorbed in our discussion—or was it battle?—we barely noticed when the waiter brought our food. Grateful for the distraction, I reached for my plate and started to rain pepper over it.
“Well, not stories,” I amended. “It’s just… Jamie mentioned a time or two that… you know… that you date many women.”
I had to stop. My steak was covered in pepper.
Harper leaned forward, planting his forearms on the table. “That doesn’t make me a pathological flirt, or even a womanizer, Alexia. I don’t use women, I never mislead them, never lie, never make false promises or commitments I don’t intend to keep. I never cheated on a lover. Make no mistake, I have nothing in common with your low-life ex.”
He sounded truly offended.
I lifted my gaze to his, repentant. “I’m sorry. I’ve been unforgivably rude. I suppose since the divorce I’ve been carrying a chip on my shoulder, and telling people about it doesn’t get any easier, even after eight years.”
He relaxed a fraction. “I can understand that. I’m not sorry you left the jerk, but I am sorry for what you’ve been through. Although I’ve never been married, I can imagine how painful it is to be betrayed by someone you love.”
I blew out a breath, slumping a little in my seat. “Not as painful as it was humiliating. The hell of it was… It made me realize I didn’t really love Brad. I suppose I loved the idea of being married, but we rushed into it and sorely regretted it.”
“That fat, lazy bastard didn’t deserve you.”
“He wasn’t fat, he was just a bit…” I stopped, staring at him. “Who told you he was fat?”
For the first time, Harper looked disconcerted. He reached for his own plate and began cutting into his steak. “It was just a figure of speech. Any man who would cheat on a woman like you must be an idiot.”
“Right.” I watched him, tongue-in-cheek. “Jamie is quite talkative, isn’t she? Looks like there’s no need for us to catch up—we’re already… caught.”
He snuffled a laugh. Then he reached out, took my hand, and wrapped it around the champagne flute. “How about we forget all that and just have a toast?” He raised his own glass. “To new beginnings.”
“To new beginnings,” I echoed, clinking my glass against his. No one could look into those compelling eyes and resist that seductive smile. I was unable to stay angry with him.
We ate the delicious food, drank a whole bottle of champagne, and talked. Despite Jamie’s two-way updates, there was still plenty Harper and I didn’t know about one another. By his own admission, his life revolved around his career and his desire to open his own legal firm in the near future. As I listened to him talk about his ambitions, I was filled with admiration. He was born for success.
Spending time with him was incredibly fun and entertaining. It was well past midnight when we left the restaurant and headed to his car. He drove to my apartment building and found a parking spot a block away. I was about to say goodnight, but he insisted on walking me to the door. Arguing with a lawyer was probably the most pointless thing in the world, so I simply agreed. As we walked, he kept his hand at the small of my back. The night was cool, which made me feel the heat of his palm seeping through my thin dress. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and my nipples were tight, as much from the chilly air as from Harper’s touch.
We stopped at the entrance to my building.
Harper brushed his fingers over my arm. “You’re all goosebumps. Are you cold?”
His touch only made my skin more sensitive. I hugged myself. “It’s a little chilly. Thanks for dinner, Harper.”
“Thank you for accepting. It’s been wonderful seeing you again.”
“Why didn’t you ever call?” I bit my lip, but the question was already out there, so I finished my thought. “You said that… well, that you sort of liked me. Yet you never called once in fifteen years, not even to say hi. Why?”
5
He looked surprised. “It never crossed my mind that you would want me to. I thought you only saw me as Jamie’s obnoxious big brother. I imagined that if you knew what I was thinking, you’d run screaming to your daddy, asking him to load the shotgun.”
I burst out laughing. “Boy, could we have been more clueless? I had a huge crush on you.”
“Really? Then why did you never call me?”
“It never occurred to me you knew I was alive. Then I got married and…” I trailed off. No need for further details.
Harper’s smile relaxed, and his face became serious. “Well, we’ve wasted a lot of years, haven’t we?”
He cupped my cheeks between his palms and gazed at me. The longing and desire in his eyes mirrored my own. When he bent to kiss me, I tilted my head, meeting his mouth with mine. The taste of his lips was exquisite. I’d yearned for his kisses so long, dreamed of them so many times that the sweet pleasure of reality made me dizzy. He didn’t stop there. He drew me closer and slid his tongue into my mouth, softly at first, then more passionately, more demanding, as I responded to him with the scorching need I’d carried inside my heart all this time. I buried my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, coaxing his tongue deeper into my mouth.
A moan vibrated in his chest and he stepped back, breathing hard, his pupils dark pools amidst the wild blue irises. “I… We should stop, Alexia. I should go.”
Like hell! For the past fifteen years, I’d lived with fantasies that got me through solitary nights and slow days, when I wasn’t busy enough to keep loneliness at bay. This time, I had a chance to create actual memories that would sustain me throughout the following years. I had no idea what was going to happen, I had no idea if I would ever find the true love of my life, but at this moment I was convinced Harper was the one. I’d been convinced of that for fifteen years. If I
never saw him again, at least I wanted to have a memory of him, something real that I could hold on to, instead of illusive fantasies.
Without taking my eyes off him, I reached out for his hand. “Stay with me tonight, Harper. I want you to spend the night with me.”
He gazed deeply into my eyes, searching, weighing, deciding. Then he stepped forward and framed my face between his hands again. “I want to be with you, Alexia. I’ve wanted this for a long time. If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure,” I said, and led him inside the building.
My apartment wasn’t dark, since I always left the bathroom light on and the door ajar. It created a dim, intimate glow. I invited Harper inside, then secured the door and slowly turned to face him. We were little more than shadows, but despite not being able to see well, we could feel the other’s movements, hear the rustle of clothing and nervous breathing. We reached for each other at the same time, kissing madly as I led him through my small apartment toward the bedroom. In the back of my mind, I remembered the bed was unmade, my pajamas strewn on the floor, but none of that mattered now. I couldn’t think, I could only feel. As we lay on the bed, Harper stretched out on top of me, and my brain surrendered control to my senses.
He kissed my lips, then my jawline, grazing his teeth over my skin. The sensations were so delicious, so intense that I melted from the inside out. I gasped as he cupped my breasts, then slid my dress down and lowered his head to kiss them. The dress slipped lower, and his mouth followed. By the time he’d left me breathless and naked, the room seemed to spin around me. I sat and reached for him, unbuttoning his shirt with clumsy fingers.
“I’m s-sorry. I haven’t done this in a long time.”
“It’s okay. You’re gorgeous, Alexia. More beautiful than any work of art I’ve ever seen.”
He guided me down on to the bed, then slowly unbuckled his belt. I watched him undress, my pulse racing at the sight of his naked body. He was perfect, more perfect than I could ever picture him in my fantasies. His torso was strong and well-toned, his abdomen flat, his arms muscled. After he put on a condom, he leaned over me again, and we were skin to skin. I sensed he wanted to restrain himself, to savor the moment, but it was too late for me. I wrapped my legs around him and drew him to me, biting his lips, tracing his jaw with my tongue. He gasped, unable to prolong the waiting as he slipped inside me, stretching me, filling me. He tried to be gentle, but I didn’t need gentleness now. I needed the real Harper—passionate, charming, demanding, dominating. I bit his shoulder in the instant of pain that preceded the most erotic experience I’d ever had. After that it was only mind-blowing pleasure as we moved together, my hands trapped under his, my hips arching up to meet his, again and again. The pressure built quickly, the friction grew hotter, the tempo became faster until we both came, in a burst of pleasure and release. We clung to one another, panting, our bodies sleek with sweat, our breaths melding together.
As minutes passed and the euphoria of the moment began to fade, the wheels of my mind started spinning again. I’d never had a one-night stand. And although Harper was, in my heart, the love of my life, he didn’t know that. I didn’t want to sound like a sap, so I had to pretend this was a one-nighter. But what should I do or say next? What was the protocol in a situation like this?
I was still pondering this question when Harper lifted his head from the hollow of my neck. I turned my face to him. I couldn’t see his features in the dark. Tenderly, he kissed my lips, laced his fingers with mine, then nestled his face back against my neck. I was undone by the sweetness of his gesture.
My last coherent thought was that I wished I was drunk. That would have explained why tears ran down my cheeks as he slept next to me. I wished I could’ve stuck to my fantasies. He was only going to be here for two days, and then he would return to his life. Now that I knew what it was like to be with him, how could I wake up day after day, knowing he was as far out of my reach as the moon?
6
I woke up aching all over—a delicious, satisfying pain. No better workout than sex. The sunlight speared my eyes as I opened them. I wanted to cling to sweet oblivion, but I couldn’t run away from reality. As I turned, I saw that I was alone in my bed, naked under the sheet. Had I covered myself during the night? And where was Harper?
For a crazy moment I hoped it all had been a fabulous dream, until I spotted his clothes spread across the back of a chair. Shit. He was still here somewhere, and I had to face him after we did the nasty—twice, if memory served.
Could I play possum until he left? Fat chance! God, I had to grow up and face the facts. This attitude was precisely why I was a spinster and a screw-up. I was twenty-nine-years old. I had to start behaving like an adult. I’d spent the night drinking champagne and having sex. So far, so good. Now what?
I pushed my hair out of my face and saw Harper standing in the doorway, watching me. He was wearing only a pair of black boxers. My first thought was that I wanted to jump his bones again. So much for behaving like an adult.
“Hi,” I said groggily, sitting up.
“Hi.” His face was so serious I prayed I didn’t look too frightful. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay. You?”
“Fine.”
Well, it seemed politeness was required on morning-afters. Fair enough. I stood and swaddled myself in the sheet.
“Did you shower?”
Harper nodded.
“I will, too. There’s a coffeemaker in the kitchen, if you want some.”
He was about to say something, but I quickly detoured around him and into the bathroom. I turned on the shower and had a good cry while I scrubbed and shampooed. If this was the morning after routine, I couldn’t understand why anyone would do it a second time. More tears ran down my cheeks as I realized there wasn’t going to be a second time for Harper and me. I’d wanted a memory to cherish, and now that I had one I was getting greedy. I had to face facts. Suddenly, I decided I would go away for the weekend, find a cheap motel in some small town where nobody knew me, and lick my wounds in peace.
I wrapped myself in a bathrobe, took a deep breath, and left the bathroom. Harper was in the kitchen, sitting at the table, fully dressed. He’d prepared coffee and had poured two cups. I took one gratefully and sat down opposite him.
“Thanks,” I said, sipping the strong brew.
“You’re welcome. Are you… okay?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He glanced away. His face looked shadowed, and not just because he was unshaven.
“Alexia, I know you don’t do this kind of thing.”
“You mean one-night stands? No, but I’m sure you can fill me in regarding the… protocol.”
His jaw was rigid. “I don’t do one-night stands either. Besides, you aren’t a one-night stand.”
“Then what am I?”
His gaze traveled over my features, filled with tenderness. “Someone I’ve wanted to be with for a long time.”
I took a sip of coffee. My eyes were about to well up again, so I put on my defensive bitch face. “Is ‘wanting to be with’ a long euphemism for sex? ‘Cause you can just say the word, it’s faster.”
He looked hurt, even insulted. “It’s not just about sex with you. It’s everything. I like the person you are, not just what’s in your panties. You’re beautiful, you’re fun, you’re smart…”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”
“There is no ‘but.’”
“There’s always a ‘but.’ It’s not like this will go anywhere.”
“Why not?”
I gaped at him, my mind blank for a moment. “Err… Well, for starters, you live 160 miles away.”
“That’s a three-hour drive,” he said, leaning back in my kitchen chair, as though ready to argue a case in court.
I wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “Harper, are you suggesting we have a long-distance relationship?”
He spread his arms, palms up. “Why not? Would that be
so terrible?”
I thought about it for a moment. It had never crossed my mind, but as I analyzed the idea now, I realized why. I chose my words carefully.
“I think it would be terrible, yes, at least for me. I don’t want a man who lives three hours away while being surrounded by beautiful, successful women every day. It would drive me crazy seeing you only on weekends, or not even that often. The novelty would fade for you, and maybe months or years from now, I would be alone again, while you would probably fall into your old habits. Or maybe you’ll genuinely fall in love with a woman within your social circle, a woman with the same interests as you. If I let myself fall in love again, it will be with a man who’s next to me every night and wants to wake up with me every day. A man who will love me for better or worse, who will be close to me and want me to have his children. I’m almost thirty-years-old. I’m not looking for affairs, I’m looking for true love. And if I don’t find it, I would rather be alone than compromise and be someone’s occasional entertainment.”
He watched me in silence for a few moments, absently tracing the handle of the coffee cup.
“I understand,” he said finally, lowering his eyes.
“I’m glad you do.” I stood up abruptly. I couldn’t keep the tears away much longer. “Please don’t think I’m rude, but I need to pack.”
“Pack? Where are you going?”
“Uh… To… I planned a weekend getaway. My mom is lending me her car. Actually, she’s probably waiting for me. I’m going to get dressed.”
“Alexia, wait.”
I rushed into the bedroom, grabbed some clothes and dashed into the bathroom to pull on jeans and a T-shirt. I had no idea where I was going, I just felt the need to get out of there, as far away as possible, someplace where I could fall apart without witnesses. I stowed toiletries and clothes into a backpack, then grabbed my purse and shoved my phone inside, along with the charger and other essentials. I texted my mom asking her to borrow her car, and immediately she replied, agreeing. Blowing out the first relieved breath that day, I exited the bedroom. Harper was still sitting at the kitchen table.
