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Her cellphone rings, a muffled sound in the distance that has her eyes going wide. “Oh God,” she whispers, jerking away from my hand to sit up. “Oh God. I’m giving a speech. I’m late.” She scrambles off the bed and rushes to locate her clothes, dashing for the living room.
I stand up and by the time I’ve pulled my pants on and located her by the door, she’s fully dressed. “I have to go,” she says, and I’m stunned at how much I don’t want her to leave.
I catch her to me, kissing the hell out of her before I release her and open the door because if I don’t let her go now, I won’t. But she doesn’t go. She seems to forget her speech, frozen in place, lost in a space that is me and her in a little cottage neither of us own. Those gorgeous blue eyes of hers study me, and I want to know what she’s thinking, what she wants, becauseI want her. Time stretches for several more beats before she closes the space between us, pushes to her toes, and kisses me. “I’ve changed my mind,” she confesses, her delicate, soft hands splayed on my naked chest. “I really do hate that we didn’t have that condom.” With that, she pushes away from me and rushes out of the door. I let her go, but fuck, I can’t walk away. I can’treallylet her go. She’s why I’m still here. She’s why I’m still here. She’s why I’m not leaving.
I finish dressing, the scent of her, all sweet and feminine, clinging to my skin, drugging me in the way only she seems to drug me. I need to see her again. I need to be inside that woman, and not just her body. I want to know why she feels insecure, and she does. I want to know why she’s here when she could be so many other places. It’s a crazy, out-of-character thought that I shove aside.
Nevertheless, I pursue her, walking down the path and find the party again. The crowd is still thick, the clusters of tuxedos and gowns gathered around a stage at the end of the pool, and there she is, Harper is on the stage. She’s standing next to my father and my asshole of a brother, with her look-a-like mother, who’s fifteen years my father’s junior, standing next to her. She takes the microphone and starts speaking about the business and the family and damn it, my father kisses her cheek and I know I’m wrong about her. She’sone of them. She’s not a reason to stay. What the hell was I even thinking?
I turn away and walk down the path to the cottage, pack my bag, and with her still on my tongue, I leave.
Forever this time.
Chapter five
Eric
SIX YEARS LATER…
I’m sitting at my desk, in my corner office of the Bennett Firm, our primary business in the legal field, with locations all over the country, but Grayson is all about diversifying his portfolio. That’s where I come in and why I’m working on a buy-in on a sports team that’s sure to add a few billion in sales on the books for the company and myself. Which is my job. Make money. Grow the business beyond worldwide legal services. Repeat, with Grayson’s aggressive, but smart, stance on growth that works for us in ways it might not for other companies. I’m scanning the final contract when Grayson pokes his head in the door. “I have contract questions.” He taps his Rolex. “It’s seven o’clock. Let’s talk somewhere that isn’t here.”
“Here-here to that,” I say. “I could use a Macallan right about now.” I stand up and roll my sleeves down before I shrug on my jacket, which never quite covers my tattoo sleeve, but I really don’t give a shit. I’m long beyond giving a shit what anyone thinks of me. If they don’t like my ink, they can move on and hope to make money elsewhere. Good riddance and good luck.
“Mia doesn’t like clause eight,” Grayson says, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
Mia being his fiancée and a criminal attorney with the firm, who’s recently re-joined our inner circle and I’m damn glad she is back in his life after a year-long breakup. Whereas I’m a loner, a man without ties, Grayson needs Mia. I might not understand that kind of bond, but I understand him. “She’s right. I already told the team owners to go fuck themselves over that clause.”
He chuckles. “Of course you did, and probably not any nicer than you just told me.”
“Probably not,” I say. “I take it Mia has trial prep tonight?”
“She does,” he says. “She’s passionate about this woman she’s defending. She’s all in.”
I shove my MacBook and a stack of papers in my briefcase and join him on the other side of the desk. “We’re about to hit the holidays. When’s the trial?”
“January.”
“And the wedding is in March? Are you sure you don’t need to push it back?”
“Hell no, we aren’t pushing the wedding back. Mia’s trying to shut down the prosecution before this even goes to trial. I hired help and we already planned this once. We’re just duplicating those plans.”
We head for my door and talk through a few pieces of the contract. We’ve just stepped into the lobby when the door opens and I’m suddenly standing face to face with a familiar brunette who’s the last person I expect to see right now. “What are you doing here, princess?” I ask softly, reminding her of that night we spent together, reminding her that I know who and what she is, then and now.
“Obviously,” she says, “I’m looking for you.” Her eyes meet mine, blue eyes the color of a perfect sky, and I have no idea why I don’t remember this about her. Because I remember far too much about this woman, both randomly and too often, just as I’m thinking about all the perfect curves beneath another black dress she’s wearing today. This one is more demure than the sexy number she’d worn the night we’d met, but it doesn’t matter. I know what’s beneath. I know where my hands and mouth have been and so does she.
As if she’s read my thoughts, she cuts her gaze abruptly and focuses on Grayson. “I’m Harper Evans,” she says, offering him her hand. “I’m the—”
“I know who you are,” Grayson says, shaking her hand, which I note is free of a wedding band. “And he told me quite a lot about you,” he adds. “I must say that you’re as beautiful as he claimed.” Grayson does nothing without purpose. He wants her to know I spoke about her to take her off guard, to make her wonder what else I said about her. That’s how he works. He discreetly takes control, and in this case, he’s discreetly handed it to me.
“Thank you,” she says, her attention returning to me, the awareness between us downright sizzling, as hot as it had been six years ago. “Can I please speak to you in private?”
Grayson’s hand comes down on my shoulder. “Meet me at our usual spot.”
I give him a small incline of my head and he departs. “Let’s go to my office.”
She swallows, her long, graceful neck bobbing with the action, drawing my gaze, and I wonder why I didn’t kiss her there when I had the chance. I wonder what the hell it is about this woman, out of all of the women out there that refused to let go, that’s still working a number on me, and it’s a hell of a number at that. “This way,” I say, motioning her forward, and at this late hour, there’s no one in our path, my secretary included.
We walk side by side down the hallway, and I’m acutely aware of her, memories of pulling her into the cottage and pressing her against the wall in my mind. We reach my office and I open the door, motioning her forward. She glances at me and I sense that she wants to say something, but she seems to change her mind. She moves forward and I know what she’ll see: an executive desk, a window with a view to kill for, and a seating area to the right, which I plan to avoid. I still want her beyond reason and the six years since we last saw each other, and that isn’t to my advantage when she clearly wants something from me.
