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"What answer?"
"Fuck that."
She jerked. Anger flooded her, pure and hot and mean. "Look, I don't know what you think last night was, but I refuse to be spoken to that way."
"Didn't mind it last night when I was buried deep inside you. Seemed to like anything I said then."
Her face turned warm. Damn, she hated blushing. "That was then. This is now."
"Why don't you tell me what last night was about, then?" Dylan rested his fists on his hips, challenging her with a gaze that dared her to lie.
Why was he doing this? Wasn't he the man in the relationship? He was supposed to be stumbling over himself in an effort to get her quickly out of his house and praying they wouldn't be talking about feelings or expectations. Screw this. She refused to cower under his overbearing high-handedness.
"Fine. You want me to be truthful, I will. Last night was wonderful. It was hot, and a fantasy, and a memory I'll never forget. But I think we both realize we were trapped in a snowstorm, had some leftover feelings from our time together at college, and needed to get it out of our system. Now I need to go back to my real life. You wouldn't fit, Dylan, and you know it. Let's do the right thing by admitting our time together was special, and deciding to move on. Maybe even be friends?" She choked on the word but managed to forge ahead. "How does that sound?"
He moved so fast she never saw him coming. Suddenly he loomed over her, his hands gripping her shoulders, fury transforming him into the rebel archangel bent on getting what he wanted. "I think your plan sucks," Dylan stated coldly. "I think you're so scared of how deep things got the only way to feel safe again is to pretend it didn't mean anything. I may not blame you, but I gotta admit, Riley, it's pissing me off. I thought you were braver than that."
She gasped. "How dare you! We spent one night together and that doesn't give you a right to pretend to know me! All we have together is great sex. It's not enough to base a relationship on."
"I disagree," he growled. "The sex is the best I've ever had, but it's about connection. We get each other. It's not rational or good on paper, but there it is. We fit. And walking away from it because you think I'm suddenly gonna spook, or some bullshit about me not owning nine out of the ten qualities on your ridiculous list is a cop-out."
"It's not ridiculous, it's real! Don't you get it? The sex is too good. We're too--intense." Her voice broke, making her even madder, but his grip gentled and he pressed his forehead to hers.
"I know it was intense, darlin'. I know it's a lot to take in, and it was only one night, but here's the truth. I'm giving it all to you in one shot. My whole life I've been searching for something incredible. My other half, a woman who made me feel whole. From the moment I found you in that car and carried you in, my senses have been in overdrive. And when I finally drove inside your body, felt your heat around me, I knew. I just knew.
"It's you. I've been searching for you."
Her body shook like it was in the grip of a fever. Fireworks went off in her brain, short-circuiting, and she tore apart in two. Half of her sobbed in relief and surrendered. The other half cringed in bone-gripping fear of the unknown and unrealistic.
Marriage and relationships were about compromise. Communication. Likability. Not this crazy hormonal ride, and soul-ripping, raw need. It couldn't be.
So Riley stood in his arms, frozen, not able to say a word. His hands stroked her cheek, the truth shattering them both, and then he kissed her.
Pure. Oh, his kiss gave everything she'd always wanted, sweet and gentle and humbling. She kissed him back, savoring every last moment, and when he pulled away she knew what she had to do.
"It'll never work," she whispered. She closed her eyes, trembling with the force of her need, and the iron-will control she had to stay strong. "You and I together will never . . . fit."
"That fucking box again." He stepped back, releasing her. He quickly turned, but she already caught the agony on his face, making a moan emit from her throat. He fisted his hands, cursing viciously under his breath. Finally, he spoke, but kept his back turned.
"I guess you've made your decision. I can't force you to take a chance. I can't force you to have feelings you may not. And I'm sorry, too."
He moved toward the door. "I'll call the tow truck to get you out of here and give you a lift home. Help yourself to coffee."
He left. Riley shuddered, slumping down to rest in the chair and catch her shaking legs. She knew he had done more than left her in the kitchen. He'd respected her very rational, logical decision and let her go completely.
Too bad the win suddenly felt like the biggest loss in her life.
chapter 9
Two weeks later, Riley slumped in her office chair. Usually, her work schedule energized her, revving her up. Goals and deadlines were her happy place. But since she left Dylan, everything seemed . . . flat. Uninspired. Even the chocolate chips she'd put in her bran muffins didn't make her happy.
Now, that was just plain scary.
Holding back a sigh, she tapped the pen against her blotter and tried to think. She'd told Kate to schedule her as many dates as possible with partners who complemented her list. She'd gone on four dates. A lawyer, accountant, teacher, and doctor. They'd been intelligent, low key, and respectable. They wanted children. She had a good time. But God, they were so dull.
Dylan had ruined her.
She'd reached for the phone to call him a hundred times during the past two weeks. He'd probably hang up on her. Riley ached that she'd been the one to hurt him, when all he had done was be brave and confess his true feelings. The same exact feelings she had for him, but was too chickenshit to follow. What a mess.
The unstoppable truth haunted her night after night. Dylan McCray was the man she was meant for. He may not be the type she imagined, but he completed her. Got her. He didn't allow for her bullshit, respected her career, knew her past, ravished her body and soul with a hunger never matched. Life may be calmer without him. More reasonable. But it would be empty and lonely and dark.
What was she going to do?
How could she get him back?
The red light flashed on her phone. "Ms. Fox, you have a visitor. He's not on your schedule but insisted you'd see him. Dylan McCray."
Her mouth fell open. After trying to talk several times, she finally managed a squeak. "Yes, thanks, Cindy, you can send him in."
She scrambled to neaten her desk, stood up, sat back down, then stood up again. Sweat dampened her palms. What did he want? Was he still angry? Would he try to get her back? What if he laughed and said her leaving was the best thing that ever happened to him? He strolled through the door thirty seconds later in a navy blue pin-striped suit, red tie, and leather loafers. He was the symbol of the gorgeous, successful American man, powerful and commanding with every move, the sharp fabric creased perfectly and a tangy aftershave floating from his skin that made her want to keep sucking in air.
"Dylan." Her voice ripped from her throat. "I'm surprised to see you."
"Riley." He nodded, but his eyes gleamed with a mysterious intent. "I'm surprised I'm here myself. But after the two weeks I had, I realized I had no choice."
She stumbled forward. The space betw
een them yawned with emptiness. His body heat hummed from across the room. "Do--do you want to sit?"
"No, thank you. This shouldn't take long."
Riley fought a shudder and tried to look calm. She shifted on her high heels, glad she'd worn her smart pink plaid Jones suit. She needed all the confidence possible. "Why are you here?"
He grinned. Shot his cuffs. His casual pose reminded her of a jungle cat lazing in the woods for a nap before hunting its prey. "I'm tired of waiting. I was a good boy, deciding to give you the time you need. But watching you go out with other men has been pissing me off, and I've lost patience. Who's in the box, Riley?"
Her heart hammered in her chest. Excitement slithered in her veins and she was thrust from dreary Kansas to Oz in seconds. She took a step forward. "You."
Those eyes burned hot and demanding. Her muscles softened in surrender. Finally, the truth released her and joy burst through her body. She blinked away the mad sting of tears.
Dylan nodded. "Damn right. About time, too. Now there's just one last thing you need to do."
She'd do it. She'd do anything for him. Because Riley knew in that moment she belonged to him as wholly as he did to her. They were a team, and she'd never doubt it again. "What?"
He gave a slow grin. "Prove it."
"This is ridiculous. It's the middle of the day. People just don't do these things in the afternoon, Dylan. It's too . . . decadent."
He tried not to laugh at her whispered horror, because he knew she frikkin' loved every second of it. Hands firmly clasped together, he led her around the circle of the rink while the lights twinkled, and the scent of popcorn and candy filled the air. The carousel sang merrily, the painted horses bobbing up and down as children laughed with delight. Still dressed in her work clothes, heels swapped out for skates, they glided in perfect coordination, and Dylan realized he'd never been so completely and utterly content.
