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Nothing.
But that was a lie and wouldn’t help her build the same trust for which she yearned.
She leaned back against his strong body, wondering how she’d missed how secure she felt in his presence and how observant he had always been to her moods. “Love wasn’t a part of my plan, Cole, but here I am, loving you,” she said, speaking her truth as she turned to look up at him. “And it scares me.”
In the depths of his grayish-blue eyes, she saw the fear of her own reflected.
Cole wrapped his arms around her and bent his head to press a kiss to her forehead. “I will always be honest with you, Jillian, and that’s all I’m asking from you,” he promised. “I give you my word that I won’t lead you on.”
She nodded, enjoying the light massage he was giving her back. She felt her desire rising as his hands slipped under her shirt and pressed to her skin with warmth, but she couldn’t run from her doubts and the fact that she already had two marriages under her belt.
The only thing she knew for sure was how much she missed Cole in her life, and having him back was worth the risk.
Because not having him had been torture.
Seven
Two weeks later
Cole’s footsteps echoed inside the two-thousand-foot condo in the Chelsea section of Manhattan’s west side. It was empty of furniture—save for the king-size bed in the owner’s suite. The post-war nineteen-story building’s structural design was evident in the modern lines, towering eleven-foot ceilings, polished teak hardwood floors, and views of the Hudson River via the expansive windows.
But it was the neighborhood that had clutched it for him. Chelsea offered a mix of culture, nightlife and art that suited him well. He didn’t even mind the traffic noise that reached the ninth floor because it spoke the neighborhood’s vibe. Art galleries, restaurants, shopping and gourmet food markets were in abundance among the new and old residential structures.
There was always something to do and to see.
His stomach rumbled in hunger.
“And to eat,” he said.
Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.
He pulled his phone from the back pocket of his denims. His smile was not to be denied at a FaceTime call from Jillian. He answered. “Hello, Chef,” he said, holding the phone up to his face as he took in hers.
She was beautiful as ever, with her curly hair piled atop her head and her face fresh of any makeup. Her brown eyes twinkled as she gave him a smile that beamed. “How are you, Chef?” she asked, standing on her terrace, the waterfront in the background.
Missing you.
“I know I’m missing you like crazy,” she said, seeming to steal his thought. “I hated to leave you yesterday.”
“Me, too,” he admitted, walking down the long, wide hall to the owner’s suite. “It was hard sleeping without you.”
“Even in that big beautiful bed?” she asked.
He chuckled. “It felt bigger without you in it,” he admitted.
“Then I gotta get back to it real soon.”
Good.
For the last two weeks, they had been nearly inseparable and how they’d spent that time together ran the gamut. From long rides across the city on his motorcycle to mind-blowing sexcapades. Long conversations about their careers and their families. Cooking and feeding each other. Sometimes saying nothing and just enjoying the comfort of being together lounging naked in bed as the rain poured outside.
“You made a good choice,” he said, eyeing the king-size structure that sat in the middle of his bedroom, the covers strewed everywhere.
“Thank you,” she said as the San Francisco winds blew the escaped tendrils back from her face.
His feelings for her had deepened.
Jillian was making it impossible not to do so. She was putting on a full-court press to prove she loved him and wanted him in her life. Never hadhebeen wooed with having his favorite meals prepared, surprising him with thoughtful gifts, and continuous declarations of her love as they invested time in each other.
