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I fall into a chair and just can’t hold myself upright, my eyes a mess. After all the tears I’ve cried, I feel like I could still cry another great lake. For Remington Tate. And for myself. And for underestimating someone who I believed would do something wrong, and instead, did the best and most incredible thing for me. Remy, when he goes black, has done a lot of bad things, or so they say. But boy, oh boy, did he make it right with Nora. For me. I know, despite Nora’s romantic side, it is for me he fought. For me he threw the fight. For me, and for who I love, that he promised to protect as his the night he tossed the entire hotel restaurant over.
I remember how proud he was during the fight, taking every blow. How it must have hurt him not to fight back! That’s all Remy knows to do. He’s a fighter at heart. Even in his eyes I could see his fierceness. He can barely control himself when provoked, and to think of him holding back when he was being hurt this way, only for me. For my sister.
Something clicks in my mind, and my heart swells until I think I’m going to pop with pain and emotion. I’m bombarded with thoughts of the first night I ever saw this man. All glinting blue eyes, golden tan, spiky black hair, playful face, and hard male body.
“Your name,” he growls, panting, his eyes wild on mine.
“Uh, Brooke.”
“Brooke what?” he snaps out, his nostrils flaring.
With trembling efforts, I pry my hand free and glance frightfully at Mel, who comes behind him, wide-eyed. “It’s Brooke Dumas,” she says and then happily shoots out my cell phone number to my chagrin. His lips curl, and he meets my gaze once more.
“Brooke Dumas.” He just f**ked my name right in front of me, and right in front of Mel. He steps forward, and his damp hand slides into the nape of my neck. “Brooke,” he growls softly, meaningfully, against my lips, as he draws back with a smile. “I’m Remington.”
Oh, god, I knew my life would change. I just never knew how much.
I. Love. This. Man.
Yes, he is a man who will be difficult, and bipolar to boot.
He’s strong, and he’s proud, and I don’t expect him to beg me.
But even though he probably won’t beg me to come back, he’s at least not asking me to beg forgiveness for being a chicken shit and dumping him while tubed in a hospital, either.
Feeling the first real sense of joy I’ve felt in weeks unfurl in my tummy, I glance down at the hotel address written on the card, and my insides move in anticipation.
He wants to be my real, not my adventure. Even when he will be the realest thing in my life, I know it’s still going to be an adventure. Because that’s him. An exhilarating bungee jump … a free fall … Olympics all year round for me … that’s what being in love with him is going to be like for me. What wondering when he gets black … and all the pushing and pulling and reasoning with him … will be like.
And suddenly, this is all I can think of.
Suddenly, my bad knee is all that’s stopping me from running after him.
I want the job he can offer.
I want to be with my big, crazy, sexy beast of a man, and I won’t apologize to anyone for it. He’s bipolar, and I’m crazy about him.
He never said he loved me. But he came back for me. He gave me my sister. He lost his wealth, his fight, and lay unconscious in a hospital bed. Because of me.
“Nora, I’m going to call Mom and Dad so you can spend some time with them, would you like that?”
“Yes, Brooke, I thought about what you said, and I do want to finish college.”
Mel chimes in. “Oh, yay! Nora, college is the place for hot guys, girl! It’s something you definitely don’t want to miss,” she adds in total excitement, still all sweaty and red-faced from our run.
Plopping down next to Nora, I tell her, “The thing is, I may not be around for a while. My new job will require I travel.”
“New job?” Melanie perks, then her tawny sleek eyebrows lower over her eyes. “Dish out, Brookey!” she threatens.
“Mel. I’m going to get the job I want with the man I need,” I confess.
“You mean you’re getting back the man you need with the job you want,” she corrects.
“Same difference!” I laugh, flinging the card at her. “I’m getting my job back.”
“With Remington?” Nora asks.
“Nora, your sister is, despite her not being the type to fall so hard, head over heels, crazy in love with this guy. And he’s been after her for months,” Mel tells her, handing me back the card.
We both gauge her reaction, and her mouth parts in surprise as she points at herself. “Oh. You thought I…? I wasn’t talking about Remington wanting me. I said Remington is super hot, but I was talking about Pete.”
“Pete!” I laugh in delight and relief and squish her between my arms again. “Oh, Pedro is such a great guy. If I go back to work, I have a feeling you’ll be seeing him.”
“Brooke, I realize I’ve always been a bit too … romantic, but what he did,” she tells me, her eyes serious. “Remington, I mean… Brooke, I’ve never, ever, seen a man fight like that for anyone.”
Closing my eyes, I nod and hold one arm around her shoulders until Melanie squeals, “Sandwich!” and comes to hug me from the other side until they’re both almost killing me with love.
“You’re going to fly me up often?” Mel murmurs in my ear when she moves back.
“Both of you,” I promise. Even if I have to save like crazy to do so.
Thirty-six hours later, I’ve settled Nora with Mom and Dad, and they keep asking her about those crocodiles. Poor Nora is going to have to pay for all her lies now that she’s being asked about the Indian culture and the Eiffel Tower and the works.
Melanie helped me pack and was a little tearful when she waved me off in the taxi, but I kept telling her, “It’s not forever! It’s seasonal, you little wimp. And I’ll be flying you up like crazy.”
My voice was confident, but honestly, I don’t even know how my meeting or interview or whatever it’s going to be called will go this evening. I just know that I’m heading for Remy, and my body already feels like a battlefield of desire, fear, longing, love, need, and regret.
I’m not sure which Remy I’m going to get tonight. All I know is that Remington Tate is not a man people plan long-term relationships with. He’s a magnet to women and trouble, and he has a dark side that’s not easily controlled.
He’s my beast. My dark and my light. Mine.
There’s just no other option for me except ending up with him.
“We’re so damned glad to see you! I’d hug you if I wasn’t afraid of losing my neck later in the day,” Riley says when he spots me across the threshold, and he’s grinning so hard, his sad surfer eyes seem to light up in real glee.
“Hey, I thought you guys were poor. Poor people don’t rent presidential suites,” I say as I come in and drop my bags at the door.
“Poor by Remy’s former standards.” Pete comes over to carry my bags into one of the rooms. “He spends several million a year, so naturally, he has to keep producing as much, but he sold the Austin house, and we’re working on getting some endorsements as we speak.”
Nodding, I steal a longing glance down the hall at the bedrooms, wondering if he’s here. When the guys usher me to the living room, I finally break down and say, “All right, so I need to know if Mr. Tate is still interested in my services? As a rehab specialist?”
“Of course,” Pete assures, plopping down on a couch and playing with his tie like he always does. “He wants to focus on what’s important. He wants you, and he’s been very specific about wanting no one else.”
I laugh, then go sober when they both stare at me like I’m a falling star and they’ve just caught me. “Guys,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Don’t be obtuse. Is he here? Did he tell you to torture me endlessly?”
“Never!” They both laugh, and Pete recovers first, his expression sobering. “He’s paced the length a thousand times these past days. He went out for a run now.” He holds my gaze in a haunted way, his voice dropping considerably as he sits up and leans on his knees. “Your letter, Brooke. He’s read it about a thousand times. He won’t talk to us. We don’t know what he’s feeling.”
The sound of a closing door reaches me, and when I leap to my feet, my breath goes.
Standing across the room, covered in sweat, is the reason I’m ready to go all out and gamble everything on my love for him. My heart stays still for a moment, and then it jumps at full speed, because this man does that to me. I sprint for him even when I’m standing still.
His hair is perfectly messy, and he stands there, the sex god of my dreams, my blue-turned-black-eyed devil of my dreams. He looks at me, then at Pete, then at Riley, then he starts for me, his kick-ass running shoes muffled in the carpet. I can see the emotions evolve in his eyes, starting with surprise, with a hint of anger, and then pure red-hot need.
I don’t know how long I stare at him, but it’s long, until I feel the chemistry crackle in the air like something unreal and electric leaping between us. His chest rises and falls, and a wild desperate need to close the emotional distance between us makes my chest ache.
