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She drew a halting breath, touched by his admission. Maybe she’d been wrong about Laird. Maybe she’d been wrong about a lot of things. “When I was staying with you…I thought we were getting close. I felt safe around you, which was something I hadn’t felt since my attack. Was it all smoke and mirrors or did you mean any of the things you said to me?”
“Some of it.”
“How much?”
“More than I was comfortable,” he said.
She digested his comment, realizing there was more to Laird than he let on. A deeper sense of soul than he wanted others to know about.
“Do you regret not finishing to get your MBA?”
He hesitated and then nodded. “Yeah. I never thought I would but as I’ve gotten older…seems like a handy thing to have. Plus, if Nolan and Vince could finish, why couldn’t I stick it out a few more semesters?”
“You could always go back.”
“Maybe,” he allowed with a negligent shrug but she sensed this was the first time he’d actually talked about something this personal with anyone and it meant something to her. “How about you? College?”
“I started but never finished either. Emma was so disappointed. I felt bad for letting her down but school was never easy for me. I struggled for every grade and I was just tired of fighting for something that I didn’t even know if it was for me.”
Talking like this, reminded of how sweet and caring Laird had been during that time she’d been in his care and she realized she very much liked this side of Laird. But how was she supposed to know if this was the real Laird or just another act?
***
He was playing a dangerous game. Or was he playing at all? He couldn’t tell anymore. All he knew was that sitting her with Lana felt good, natural. Relaxing, even. He leaned back against the sofa and watched Lana talk animatedly about her childhood, about how hard it was when her parents died in a car accident and Emma had to work two jobs to keep food on the table. He’d never gone a day in his life worrying about where his next meal would come from. There was a saying that struggle built character. Maybe that was his defect — he had no character. Even now, when his mind should’ve known better, he was thinking of things that really shouldn’t have any place in his mental theater.
“Can I say something?” he broke in, impulsively and Lana stopped to wait expectantly. He sat up and moved closer, grasping her hand in his. “I want to kiss you again.” She opened her mouth to protest but he shook his head and said, “Please. Let me make up for last night. I won’t touch you anywhere you don’t want to be touched, I promise.”
Her eyes wide and vulnerable, she whispered, “Why?”
“Because I want to overwrite that bad shit you have running in your head. Don’t let that asshole live rent-free in your head, sweetheart. And,” he added with a small smile “because I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She blushed and looked away. “C’mon now, I look terrible. I haven’t even brushed my teeth today.”
He laughed and gently pulled her close, saying, “I don’t mind” and then pressed his lips gently against hers, loving the feel of her soft flesh moving against his, the tentative touch of her tongue. He pulled away, admiring how the light bathed her face in a warm glow. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She shook her head, biting her lip. “Can we do it again?” he asked. She nodded and he went in for another kiss, this time deepening the kiss slowly, going by her cues and body language. Her breathing turned shallow and he could sense her arousal. This was where things had gone sour the last time. He deliberately slowed his sensual attentions and pulled back, letting her breathe for a moment. “You good?”
“Yeah,” she answered, smiling shyly. “You’re a good kisser.”
“I know.” Lana laughed at his smug answer and tossed a throw pillow at him, which he caught as he laughed. He sobered to tell her, “I could kiss you all night. And if you would let me, I’d make love you, to remind you that not all touch is bad. I would consider it my honor to do that for you.”
Her smile faded and his heart actually felt her withdrawal as she shook her head. “I’m not ready for that,” she said, scooting away from him. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” he told her, hating that he’d pushed too hard too soon. He had an idea. “How about this…let’s rent a flick, pop some corn and just cuddle up and watch movies together. I promise nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? Aren’t we friends?”
She considered his question and then answered slowly, “I’m not sure. I don’t kiss my friends like that.”
“Neither do I,” he admitted and he realized he was being truthful. He was a man-slut of the highest order but he never fully gave of himself when he was with someone. Not so with Lana. He felt…at home with her. For the first time ever, Laird had to wonder if Nolan had been right and that his feelings for Lana went deeper than he wanted to admit. “I have a form of dyslexia,” he said, not sure why he was sharing something so personal but it felt right. “It’s why I struggled in school and why I ultimately dropped out of college. I was just tired of the fight. And the money was an easy out. I wish I hadn’t taken it.”
A beat of silence passed between them and then Lana said, “Would you be willing to sit through a chick-flick?”
“Will it make me cry like a little baby?”
“Probably.”
“Then, absolutely. I’m in need of a good cry anyway.”
Lana’s laughter lit up his soul in a way that shocked and scared him a little but he liked it, too. There was more to Lana than just the fact that she’d been brutalized. He’d always been able to see that. But where did he fit into the picture? He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who nurtured very well. Too spoiled, too self-centered to think of anyone’s needs aside from his own. And Lana needed someone who would always think of her needs first.
He was kidding himself that he could be anything but a painful chapter in Lana’s life if he stuck around. He’d been right to bail the first time around and now he was setting her up to do it again.
“Ahhh, crap,” he exclaimed, moving off the sofa with a chagrined expression. “I just remembered I committed myself to a project with Vince tonight and there’s no way I can wiggle out of it. I’m sorry. Raincheck?”
Her expression fell but she nodded and he felt like a shit for letting her down but he couldn’t continue down this path when he couldn’t be sure that his intentions were pure. “Sure,” she said, her gaze going to the flowers. “Thank you for the pick-me-up…and the flowers.”
He risked a smile and his gut did a little warning flippety-flop, telling him that he was in over his head.
And he wasn’t about to drag Lana through something that might end up hurting her in the end.
-7-
Emma was in an awesome mood, in spite of the mild nausea that seemed to dog her ever step, and she was bound and determined to get her sister to agree to spend Christmas with them at the Buchanan’s place up in the Hamptons. She hummed as she let herself into Lana’s apartment and immediately noted the huge spray of flowers on her kitchen counter and alarm doused her previous good mood. “Where did these come from?” she queried, going straight to Big Sister Mode. “Are these from Laird?”
“Um, yes they are actually. Aren’t they beautiful?”
“Gorgeous. Not the point. Why is he sending you flowers?”
“Geez, Emma, calm down. Why can’t Laird send me flowers?”
Emma’s gaze narrowed. “Because he’s a notorious man-whore who can’t be trusted when it comes to the tender hearts of women.”
“Who says I’m tender-hearted?”
Emma’s expression softened as she said, “Honey, I’m just trying to look out for you. Laird is not the man for you.”
A spurt of indignation colored her voice as she said, “I’m not a child. I don’t need you tell
ing me who and I can and can’t accept flowers from.”
Taken aback by Lana’s show of spirit, Emma back pedaled a little. “I’m just worried that you might get the wrong idea about Laird and end up getting hurt.”
“And what idea would that be? That he’s my knight in shining armor? The man I’m going to settle down with and have babies with? Don’t worry, Emma…I don’t believe that man exists,” Lana said with a snort.
“Well, of course, he exists. Somewhere. Just not Laird.”
“Just for sake of argument, why do you hate Laird so much?”
Emma went on the defensive. “I didn’t say that I hated him. He’s Vince’s best friend. I could never hate him. But I don’t like him very much, that’s true.”
“Why?”
“Because Laird is the one who has been whispering in Vince’s ear to keep that stupid club. I want it out of our lives and somehow Laird keeps drawing Vince back into club affairs under the pretense that it’s just club business. How do I know he’s not getting blow jobs at the club?”
Understanding dawned and she felt bad for her sister. “Don’t you trust Vince?”
