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After this morning, after our conversation, I’m suddenly more confused and unsure of myself. As if that’s not enough, the new issue of Gilt Travel has been electronically delivered to subscribers and staff, along with my article about the Gold Dust. Everyone wants to tell me how good it is, but the more I have to talk about it, the harder it is to stop thinking about its subject.
Why do you keep pushing me away?
The effort it takes to force the image of him from my mind is almost paralyzing.
“I’m not in love with him,” I tell Chelsea, without taking my eyes off my computer screen. There’s nothing on the screen, but I don’t want her to see the lie on my face.
Chelsea is still laughing, oblivious to my inner torment. “That’s what they always say.”
I don’t reply. I type in my password and concentrate on my screen as it comes to life. I search the files for something… anything I can start working on, anything to make me stop thinking.
Chelsea stops laughing, sensing that something is wrong. She steps towards my desk and gives me a sharp look. “You’re not seeing him anymore.”
I close my eyes, and even then all I can see in my head is Landon.
Why do you keep pushing me away?
I focus on Chelsea, pushing everything else out of my mind. “It wasn’t supposed to be a permanent thing.” I meet her eyes and force a brightness into my voice that I don’t feel, which, I’m sure, does little to deceive her.
She sighs. “Are you doing okay?”
I’m sure that as soon as she leaves my office, I’m going to succumb to the tears stinging in my eyes. “I’m fine,” I lie.
It’s obvious that she doesn’t believe me. “We should go out,” she suggests after a short silence. “Let’s pick a night, hit the clubs, and party till we forget that men exist. Me, you, Laurie, Sonali too, if she’s done with her juice cleanse by then. It’ll be great.”
I nod vaguely. Laurie. With the distraction of Landon’s appearance this morning, I’ve not had the chance to dwell on her reaction from last night. Now that I’m reminded, it rankles. I understand why she lost her temper over Jack. She’d nursed me through two years of crying over him, but her accusations had been so fucking unfair.
When Chelsea finally leaves me alone, I abandon my desk and any attempt to work and walk over to the small window. My view is limited to a small slice of sky, and some other buildings, their reflective glass walls hiding the busy people inside them.
Why do you keep pushing me away?
I close my eyes, wondering where Landon is, what he’s doing. He’s probably at his office by now, acquiring more properties and making more money. Had I succeeded in driving him away? Was it possible that he was also thinking about me? Had I left some sort of indelible mark in his life too? Would he be distracted at his desk by the memory of tearing my clothes off right on that same surface and making me come over and over?
That particular memory is followed by a surge of desire, and raw heat unfurls between my thighs. It’s just sex, I tell myself, leaning my head on the glass, hoping the cool surface will help to calm my raging hormones and emotions. It’s just sex, and he’s just a man.
A man I’m in love with.
Why do you keep pushing me away?
I have to stop thinking about him, or else I’ll go mad, or go to him and beg for his love, or accept whatever part of himself he’s ready to give, for however long.
I’m ashamed how attractive that option seems. It’s not fair. I want to have love in my life. I want something like what my parents have. I want a man who’ll give up everything if he has to, just so we can be together.
And I want that man to be Landon.
Pushing away from the window, I return to my desk. Just as I reach my seat, there’s a soft knock on the door. A moment later, it opens and Jack Weyland enters my office.
He pauses at the door, a smile on his face. Looking at him, it’s easy to see why I was stuck on him for two years. He’s charming and funny, and though he’s not as tall, or as perfectly built as Landon, he has a slim, fit physique, like a model’s. With his cloudy gray eyes, black hair, and the perfect smile he never hesitates to use, he’s unquestionably handsome. He’s also the most famous writer at Gilt Travel.
Today, he’s wearing a dark vest over a lightly striped shirt. Dark pants show off his slim hips and long legs. His hair is mussed, pushed back, with one curly forelock falling onto his forehead. He looks good, and it’s obvious that he knows it.
“Hey beautiful,” he says, making it sound as if he’s been waiting to see me all morning - as if I’ve just made his day by existing. It must be a gift, I think, how he can flatter and seduce with only a few words.
“Hi, Jack.” I force a smile, determined to hide the fact that a moment before he came in, I was struggling under the weight of my emotions, and I still am. Not that I care what he thinks, but I’d rather walk a plank than give him a reason to think he’d been right to warn me about Landon.
He walks over to my desk and leans his hip on the edge. “I read your article,” he says. “Nice work.”
The article again. I have to force myself not to succumb to the reminder of Landon. “Thanks. Though I’m surprised that you had the time. No new assignments?”
