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She looks at me, her face tight with the determination not to cry. “What?”
“Ice cream,” I suggest. “Lots of it.”
There is a small flash of gratitude in her eyes. She sighs. “That might help.”
“It had better,” I say confidently, going to our tiny kitchen in search of the tub of ice-cream we have in the freezer. I come back empty. “We’re out,” I tell Laurie.
She grins sheepishly. “I could have told you that.”
I purse my lips, glad that she’s smiling, at least. “I’m going to run downstairs to get some. Don’t go anywhere.”
She holds up her hands as if to say. ‘Where would I go?’ “I’ll be right here.”
I come back armed with enough ice-cream and wine to start me and Laurie on our journey to becoming obese drunks. I’m trying to unlock the door when I hear the sound of her laughter. Puzzled, I enter the apartment, wondering what could have become funny in my absence.
I don’t have to wonder for long. Laurie is still sitting on the couch where I left her, but now she’s not alone. Landon is sitting on our armchair smiling at whatever he said that’s so amusing.
My first instinct is to turn around and leave, to go somewhere he won’t be able to find me, pull me in with his presence and make me silly with desire.
But why should I be the one to leave? What gives him the right to invade my personal space again and again? And why, for God’s sake, did Laurie let him in?
He turns to look at me, still smiling, but as his eyes meet mine, the merriment disappears, replaced by a piercing look that makes my stomach knot tightly.
“Hello, Rachel.”
I glare at him, even though every single inch of my skin is already flushed and my body is thrumming with awareness. I’m frustrated and angry, but those feelings are mixed with something else, sadness, desire, longing? I give Laurie an accusing look. “You’re obviously feeling better. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered with these.”
She rolls her eyes and gets up from the couch. She clearly thinks I’m overreacting, but she has no idea how difficult it’s been for me these past few days.
“You’re a lifesaver,” she says, coming to take the bag from me, all the while looking unapologetic about allowing me to find Landon here without any warning at all.
“What. The. Fuck, Laurie?” I mouth silently.
She gives me a helpless shrug and disappears into the kitchen, leaving me with no choice but to fix my glare on Landon once again.
“What are you doing here?” I’m still standing close to the door. My eyes slide over him, taking in every beloved angle and plane of his face, and the perfect dark-gray suit that’s almost, but not quite as sexy as the man wearing it. I want to tear my eyes away, but somehow, I can’t. I feel so confused, annoyed, aroused…
He gets up in one fluid, graceful movement, immediately dwarfing the room. “What do you think I’m doing?”
His voice is low, but I feel the words like a threat, to my body, and to my peace of mind. Steeling myself, I give him a challenging look. “You need to leave.”
He raises a brow. “You have to start saying that like you really mean it,” he says. “But we both know you don’t.”
Laurie returns from the kitchen before I can reply. She’s carrying a glass of wine and a bowl of ice-cream. She takes in the sight of me and Landon facing each other and gives me a wide-eyed smile, “I’m just gonna…” she jerks her head in the direction of her room. “It was nice to see you again Landon.”
“Likewise.” He smiles at her, his co-conspirator. My scowl deepens as she disappears into her room and closes the door.
“So you’ve moved on?”
He’s facing me again, and I step back, something in his tone making me want to run. My back hits the door just as his long strides bring him right in front of me.
“Is that why you came here?” I let a mocking note creep into my voice. “You couldn’t bear the thought that there’s one woman in the whole world who isn’t beside herself with joy at the thought that you want arelationshipwith her?”
“Jesus! Rachel.” He closes the remaining distance between us, effectively backing me up against the door. With both of his palms flat on either side of me, I’m trapped. He’s so close, and I’m so aware, that if he comes any nearer, he’ll have his whole body plastered over mine. I’m nervous and excited, but I’m not going to let him seduce me into submission. Not again.
His eyes rake my face. What’s he looking for? I wonder, signs of capitulation? He lowers his head, and at the thought that he’s going to kiss me, my stomach flips, and my lips part, my breath suddenly coming hard and fast.
But he doesn’t kiss me. “I’m at my wits end,” he whispers softly. “I’m helpless, I’m bewitched. You’re my every waking thought and sleeping dream.” He brings his lips close to my ear and I bite back a moan at the sensation. “You want me,” he says, “and I’m going crazy. Stop lying to me. Tell me what I have to do.”
