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When her parents died so tragically, she had learned the hard way that human beings were extremely resilient, and could endure almost anything. In many ways, she had begun to care for him so much during those times, that she had immediately stepped back in a desperate need to pull herself to her feet without anyone holding her. For what would happen when her pillars were kicked out from under her again?
She had taught herself, even though it had been painful, to live without Daniel even before she’d allowed herself to be with him. She’d shown herself that life was precious to enjoy and value whether or not you were with the person you wanted to share it.
Now she wondered if she was strong enough to deny herself the man she loved, why could she not be strong enough to be with him?
She’d wanted him. Had wanted to kiss him, to have sex with him. Because she’d needed to get him out of her mind. His almost-kiss had haunted her for a decade, because Daniel should’ve been her first kiss. He was her first, and only, love. And he should’ve been her first lover. If he had, there would have never been anyone else for Monica. But Monica had not allowed it.
It frightened her.
If she ever lost him, like her parents, would she want to die?
She hadn’t wanted to find out.
She had denied his kiss, denied the love she could feel he’d wanted to give her, and she had denied the love she’d felt for him. Inste
ad, she given herself to older men, maybe even with more experience than Daniel back then, but she’d never felt even a whisper of wanting with any of them. Not a whisper of the explosions she felt when Daniel smiled at her, spoke to her. Not the calm completion she felt when Daniel had held her all those years ago, in his powerful, gentle arms.
Her eyes burned at the thought.
God, she’d really gotten herself into a tight place this time.
When she’d asked him to have sex with her, she’d thought the years had passed and that physically, she could get involved with him, without being involved on the inside. She’d thought she needed to get over the tantalizing memory of him holding her in his arms, of his lips almost kissing her, his words telling her that she was beautiful and he wanted her, and she’d thought that once she allowed herself to experience the physical need she had tried to the depths of her being to deny all these years, she would be ready to be with another man.
Oh, God.
How badly, how badly, she had planned this out.
She had thought to get the curiosity out of her system, to allow her body to indulge in what she had long ago denied it. Yes, she’d regretted, for years, the way she’d shockingly reacted to that kiss. Daniel Lexington would have been her first kiss, and instead she’d gotten scared by the enormity of it, of losing your parents at nineteen and falling in love in a way that brought all of that tragedy back.
She had reacted badly, and instead, months later, she had given her kiss to someone else, her virginity to someone else, someone who didn’t pose any threat to her control, someone who was older, tamer, and who didn’t make her burn. Even then, when all those tame men touched her, she felt closed and locked, yearning for the one touch that would make all the others seem like nothing.
Now she had been with him, thinking she would be free of that need. That hunger. That feeling of wrongness she felt with other men. But being with the right one had merely assured that she would never, in her life, be able to be with anyone else.
Was she going to live like this her whole life? Scared, and deliberately closing her eyes to what was staring right back at her?
“Ms. Davenport?”
Throat tight with emotion, she glanced up to find her assistant staring at her, a worried frown on her face. “There’s a detective here to see you,” she announced.
Monica’s heart stopped as she glanced behind Kristy, and at the man across her office, hovering by the doors. Memories once more threatened to flood her, drown her.
At what time did you say you opened the door to find them dead in their bedroom, Miss Davenport?
Frantically pushing the memory aside, she stood and nodded. Kristy let the man in, then gave them some privacy and closed the door. Monica’s heart once again starting to freeze over. It was unavoidable. When your survival instincts kick in, it’s instinctive. You don’t ask them to be there, they’re just there. And already, Monica was starting to feel numb. Hurting for the loss of Daniel. For herself. And now, whatever this was, it made her feel cold as death.
“I don’t believe you had an appointment today, pardon, I didn’t catch your name?” she asked.
“Detective Louis Kline, Ms. Davenport. I’m actually here on behalf of Mr. Daniel Lexington.”
Her chest seized with pain, and she didn’t know if she wanted this man to get out of her office, or it if it were she, herself, who wanted to run. She wanted to ask about Daniel, to know if he was all right, what he’d been doing, if he’d been thinking about her, if he hated her, if he would even forgive her, if he loved her. Why hadn’t he come himself?
Because he hates you for being a coward, Monica.
Because he’s angry, and wounded, and probably well on his way to forgetting you …
Instead, she signaled at one of the upholstered chairs across her mahogany desk. “Sit down, please,” she said.
“He asked me to please deliver this to you. It has to do with your parents.” He handed over a manila folder he’d been clutching to a discreet navy blue tie that perfectly matched his suit.
