Page 48 of Old Flames

“What do you want, Leo? For me to spill my guts to you?”

“I’m asking a simple question,” he said. “Are you in trouble? Is it serious?”

She broke out in a cynical laugh. The effort to pull it off made her waver. Leo moved her away from the open mouth of the stairs and waited until she was steady on her feet. With his hands on her hips, she suddenly felt less safe.

“Leo, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Every look you give me might as well be an SOS signal,” he said. “You’re hurting. Do you expect me to turn a blind eye?”

“So what? If someone is having a bad day, you leap in and demand they explain themselves?”

“You’re not just having a bad day, and you’re not just anyone.”

Who had he made her out to be? She was a mess, a wreck, yet she’d rather die than have him sign on as her caretaker. Besides, he couldn’t help her. He couldn’t crawl inside her and separate her left brain from her right, her good sense from whatever was preying on it.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Make me.”

Why not tell him? The load was heavy, and she was exhausted from carrying it. And maybe the thing to do was dump it on someone else, watch what they did with it. She decided against it. Leo had been clear from the start. He didn’t believe in the afterlife. Their destiny was to become compost. If she went on about visions of a ghost in the garden, he’d never look at her the same way again. Hosting a séance in his hotel room was one thing. If anything, it was a story to tell his friends or material for a novel. No. What he wanted was the cool, the mysterious July Levy Jones, a character she’d created, not the wreck that she was becoming. For him, she could put on an act. She could play that role.

Jules spilled onto Leo like water, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He could touch her, feel her body, but no more than that. Leo kissed her as if he’d be the last to ever do it, no other lover, no one else. Not a tough act to follow, but the finale.

They stumbled and she pinned him against the wall. Oh, this was fun! She had the upper hand, and while she privately celebrated, Leo outmaneuvered her. He unbuttoned her shirt and bit her through the lace of her bralette. With his nose, he pushed the delicate fabric out of the way and caught her tender nipple between his teeth. She begged him to do it again: “Harder!” He dragged his teeth along her sensitive skin, tugged at her nipple, awakening every nerve ending. It had been so long since she had felt anything beyond the baseline pleasure that any battery-operated device could provide. And her body that she’d so carelessly offered up betrayed her. She found herself clinging to him. He spun her around by the waist and pinned her back to his chest. Her breath grew ragged as his hands fully explored her body, his erection hard on the small of her back.

Leo kissed the nape of her neck, whispered her name, and suddenly, inexplicably, things turned tender. He wrapped her in his arms and their breathing synced. She closed her eyes, overcome by peace rather than passion. How could he so easily find his way into spaces he didn’t belong?

“July, when will you talk to me?”

She turned and met his mouth. “Shut up and kiss me.”

His laughter against her skin made her melt between her legs. “Why does it feel like if I take this offer, I’ll miss out on whatever you’re hiding behind curtain number one?”

She kissed him. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“Give me something,” he said even as his fingers inched up the hem of her short skirt. “I want to know.”

Game over.

Jules reluctantly pulled away from Leo’s body, the strained pull of saltwater taffy. He truly was a persistent motherfucker and would not drop this, though she physically needed him to. What could she say to throw him off her scent?

“You may not know this, but I lost my mother a while back.”

“I figured.”

She startled. “How do you figure?”

“Your books are dedicated to Ruby,” he replied.

Ruby.

“That’s a close read if you remember the dedication,” she said.

He held her gaze evenly. “I figured it was someone special, someone close to you. Google did the rest.”

“She was special.”

“I’m sorry.”