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“This is not just sex,” he said. “Not for me. Maybe it started out that way, and heck, I thought I was stretched too thin to add a relationship to my life right now, so I held onto that thought. But I fell for you.”
He felt her pulling away, her hands pressing against his chest as her feet scrambled to find the floor. But he couldn’t hold back the words.
“Kat, I’m falling in love with you.”
Chapter 18
IN HER MIND, the difference between loneliness and love spanned the continental United States. It was like the distinction between New York and Oregon. And right now she didn’t want either one. She wanted to make an emergency landing in North Dakota and wait out the storm.
Crossing her arms in front of her bare chest, Kat backed away. How had they gone from “I’ll brighten your day with a lap dance” to “I’m falling in love with you”? They’d known each other a week. OK, maybe she’d lusted after him for years. But that didn’t mean she knew him.
“This was insane.” She glanced around the room, searching for her clothes. She found her underwear and slipped them on, followed by her bra and the shirt she’d folded beside his bed. “And you had to tell me now?”
“I know what I feel Kat,” Brody said, following her lead and pulling on the clothes she’d stripped off him. “And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you feel unwanted and unworthy of love for another day when that is exactly what I feel for you.”
“You can’t,” she said, the words falling out in spite of the panic cartwheeling through her. “In less than a week?”
Wearing only his jeans, he put his hands on his hips. “I can’t love a woman who offers support? Who listens to me? And who drives me crazy with desire?”
“I’m not the only woman in the world willing to experiment with kinky fantasies,” she shot back.
“No,” he said evenly, his gaze locked with hers. “But you’re the only one I want to tie up. The only one I want in my bed covered in whip cream. The only one—”
“You don’t know enough about me to love me,” she snapped, the panic like a tornado now, threatening to envelop her. “What is my favorite color? My favorite food? What kind of movies do I like to watch? And there is so much I don’t know about you.”
“I don’t give a damn about colors. I like a good burger and the occasional steak. I prefer action flicks, but I’ll watch just about anything. I’ve seen Cinderella nearly a hundred times because that was Katie’s favorite when she was little. I’d be happy if I never saw another Disney princess movie again,” he said, the words coming out hot and fast. “How does knowing any of that help?”
“It matters,” she said.
His brown eyes stared at her, dark and possessive. She’d seen a glimmer of she’s mine in his gaze before, and she should have heeded the warning. She should have left before they’d landed here.
“It matters,” she continued, her voice rising with each word, “because I think about the number of people who know those things about me, and I come up with a big fat zero.”
Kat shook her head. She’d imagined tonight would lead to raised voices, possibly screaming. But not like this.
His hands fell to his sides. “Look Kat, I don’t want to fight with you. But I needed to tell you how I feel. I love you, Kat. I don’t care if your favorite color is fuchsia or if you saw Frozen a dozen times in the theater. I’d like to learn your favorite things, but knowing won’t change how I feel about you. I don’t know what that means for the future, for us, but—”
“You told me because you think I’m leaving,” she said, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “Now that Josh has regained his memory, I’ll be heading back to the East Coast.”
He cocked his head to one side, studying her. “Aren’t you?”
She nodded. Her work was in New York. Brianna was there, waiting for her to provide a forever home. The life she’d built for herself—it was all there.
“I had to say something before I took you back to my bed,” he said. “It was the right thing to do.”
The truth crystallized in her mind. Brody Summers wanted to do the right thing. He never strayed from that path. And that meant giving her what he thought she needed.
But she’d lived most of her life without love, without anyone wanting her beyond her academic and professional life. And she wasn’t about to risk her heart, to open herself to the rejection that would come when their week-long fling fell apart. Because it would hurt ten times as much as the family who hadn’t wanted to keep her as a child when Brody told her loved her but couldn’t be with her. And that day would come.
But not if she got out first. Not if she left the burning fear that had eclipsed every other emotion—desire, wanting, joy—carry her away from here.
“Doing the right thing just cost you a lap dance,” she said, turning to the door.
“I didn’t fall for the fantasy, Kat,” he said. “I fell for you.”
Those words planted a kernel of hope. She wanted to believe him. But in just one week? If it was that easy, if it only took a week to learn to love her, why hadn’t it happened before?
Because you run. You started running as a teenager, leaving the families before they gave you up. And you haven’t stopped.
