Actual Stop (8 page)

“Mmm. Not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not even a little bit.”

I smiled. “Then shut up.”

Lucia shivered and wrapped her arms around me tight. “Turnabout’s fair play.”

She yawned, and I could tell she was beat. I hated to admit it, but a tiny part of me was relieved. I hurriedly buried that emotion without examining the reasoning behind it. I stripped quickly and pulled the covers up over our naked bodies. Lucia turned on her side, and I snuggled in behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist. I kissed her shoulder.

“You’re in trouble,” she muttered sleepily.

“I know.”

“You just wait ’til I catch my breath.”

“I’ll count the seconds.”

“Paybacks are a bitch.”

I smiled. “So I’ve heard.”

Some of her muscles tensed as though she was trying to gather the strength to turn over, but they relaxed again almost immediately. She was simply too tired. I heard her sigh. “Gotta return the favor,” she mumbled.

I placed another kiss on the back of her neck and closed my eyes. “Tomorrow.”

A very long while later, I lay silently in the dark bedroom listening to Lucia’s deep, even breathing, barely aware of the sounds of the occasional passing car on the streets below. It was official. I was the biggest asshole on the entire planet because, as I lay there attuned to the sounds of my lover sleeping soundly by my side, I couldn’t purge thoughts of Allison from my mind.

I didn’t want to think about her. I didn’t want to get lost in memories of the good times we’d had because they only led to recollections of how easily Allison had been able to forget me, and that shattered me all over again. I didn’t want to relive every word and touch and look we’d shared. Well, I did, but even I was smart enough to know that, in the end, I’d only be hurting myself. Nothing good could come of it. So why bother?

I drew a ragged, frustrated breath. I don’t know if there ever would’ve been a good time for Allison to make a reappearance, but I was absolutely positive her timing couldn’t have been worse. Between the stress of an impending PPD visit, the looming Iran advance, and the lengthy case report due in a few days, I had more than enough on my mind. That I now had to add working closely with her to my list of potential distractions filled me with dread.

A strange, hollow ache in my chest made it hard to breathe, and every thump of my battered heart compounded that emptiness. It was time to stop. I couldn’t get sucked further into my current line of thinking; it was more dangerous than wading through quicksand. Sorrow, anger, and regret would undoubtedly drown me. I couldn’t handle that today. Not when I had to spend the entire day with the woman who’d made me feel this way.

No. This was unacceptable. I needed to change my outlook on life, and I needed to do it quickly, or the next few days would be utter torment. When Allison and I had been together, I’d spent a lot of time reacting badly to situations. I’d shed a lot of tears after she’d broken my heart and allowed bitterness and rage to fill the cracks her absence had left. I hadn’t been myself for a long time after that, and I was still ashamed that I’d fallen apart so completely and lost sight of who I was, who I wanted to be. Some of that had happened in front of her. The rest of it she never needed to know. And if I was going to keep whatever self-respect I had left, I needed to put on a good face and not let anything she said or did get to me. Probably easier said than done, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try.

Quietly, I crawled out of bed. I’d perfected my technique of dressing noiselessly in the dark, and today was just another chance to exercise those skills. I pulled on a sports bra, T-shirt, and shorts.

I needed to burn off some of this frustration. Nothing a trip to the gym wouldn’t fix. I jammed a hat onto my head and spent a few moments shoving my tangled hair underneath it. After a quick stop in the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, I hurriedly gathered my keys, my phone, my iPod, the backpack I carried to work, and the gym bag I always had packed and ready to go. I slid the headphones on, chose a playlist I’d deliberately compiled to combat dour moods and bad days, and slipped out the front door, silently trying to convince myself this was the best day I’d ever had.

Nothing quite like the power of positive thinking.

*

At the ungodly hour I’d decided to start my day, there was almost no traffic, and I made it to the office a lot faster than usual. The gym was completely empty, so not only did I have my choice of machines, but I also got to pick the television stations. That improved my mood immensely. I could only take so much ESPN and CNN, and none of that limited tolerance extended to when I was trying to work out.

I started with some light calisthenics to warm up and then hopped on the treadmill. I hadn’t been kidding when I’d told Mark I hated running. I did. More than most things, actually. But running was one of the requirements for our quarterly physical-fitness tests, so I forced myself to do it. However, I was never pleased about it.

I spent a minute or so adjusting the settings of the treadmill to my liking, and then I zoned, running at a clip fast enough to challenge me but not make me pass out. I watched the television as I pounded along to the music blaring in my ears. I mouthed the words to the songs, wanting to sing as I ran but being just a little too winded to do so. I also carefully monitored my thoughts, lest they stray to unpleasant topics and undo all the work I’d just done.

I finished my four miles and moved on to the mat room to muscle my way through a grueling pyramid of push-ups, pull-ups, and sit-ups. I pushed myself extra hard, determined to keep distracted. Then I spent another few minutes stretching my entire body before I went to get ready for my day.

I said a few hellos to the guys who’d commandeered the television and flipped it to ESPN Sports Center and made my way to the locker room. My body felt rubbery, which I took as a sign that I’d done a good job tiring it out, and I sighed happily.

Alone in the locker room, I lost myself in the familiar routine of gathering my shower supplies and ironing my wrinkled shirt, singing along with my iPod as I did so. A few other gym bags lay strewn around, indicating that other women from the office were milling about somewhere, and I picked my way through them on my way to the shower.

The hot water sluicing over my body felt wonderful, and I took my time standing under the spray, letting it wash away my aches and cares. I had a while before I had to leave to pick up Allison at her hotel. No reason to rush into that storm before absolutely necessary.

Eventually, I got out of the shower and leisurely dried off, humming under my breath. The run had burned off some of my stress, and the good music had lifted my spirits. I was actually smiling as I donned my bra and panties, convinced that it was going to be a great day.

As I unwrapped the towel from around my head to rub at my wet hair, I felt a slight tug and heard the distant clatter of metal against tile. I froze, my eyes wide. I knew exactly what’d happened, but that didn’t stop me from putting a hand to my ear to confirm it.

“Damn it.” I sighed and cast a helpless glance around the floor, trying to spot the earring that’d been pulled out. I wadded up the towel and threw it on the ground, so I had something to kneel on as I searched. It took another minute or so, but eventually I located the rogue piece of jewelry.

“Aha!” I murmured triumphantly as I closed my fingers around it.

“Lose something?” someone asked from behind me.

Startled, I flew to my feet. Having not bothered to look before I leapt, so to speak, I bashed my forehead on the corner of an open locker on the way up. White-hot pain slashed through me as I drew in a hissing breath. I raised my hand immediately to the source of the agony and closed my eyes.

“Ow.” I squeezed my eyes shut even more tightly. Holy hell, that hurt! And I was now battling mortification as well. Terrific.

“Oh, my God, Ryan!” Allison rushed to my side. “Are you okay?”

As my eyes were still closed, I couldn’t see her, but the touch of her hand closing over my wrist was unmistakable. My pulse started racing, and the ragged inhalation I drew now had nothing to do with pain.

“Let me see it,” Allison said gently.

“It’s nothing.” My teeth were clenched against the sting, and I was absolutely humiliated.

“Oh, stop it. Let me see.”

The hand on my wrist pulled lightly, and I allowed her to remove my own hand from my head. I opened my eyes to look at her, which only made my heart start pounding faster. Her skin was sweaty and flushed, as though she’d just completed a fairly strenuous workout, too. Her hair was pulled back into a messy, haphazard ponytail, some stray wisps of which had escaped and now floated around her head, creating a chaotic halo. She was quite possibly the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I silently scolded myself for even entertaining the notion.

“Oh, Ryan,” she exclaimed. She took a step closer—which had the added benefit/disadvantage of putting her lips scant inches from mine—and frowned at my forehead. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing,” I said again. My humiliation hadn’t lessened. Neither had any of the pain.

Allison snorted as she went to a gym bag on the floor and pulled out a small pouch. Deftly, she retrieved an antibacterial wipe and dabbed at my head. I winced at the sting but made no noise.

Allison glanced into my eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“Mmm.” I fixed my eyes on the locker-room wall over her shoulder and concentrated on showing no emotion, belying the maelstrom swirling inside me.

After what seemed like an eternity, she stopped dabbing at my forehead and tossed the wipe onto the floor, where it landed on top of my previously discarded towel. She made no move to increase the distance between us and took a long moment to look me up and down. I was now acutely aware that I was still in my underwear and wished I could cover myself without revealing my feelings of vulnerability.

“Wow, Ryan! You look fantastic.”

“Uh…Thanks.”

Her smile widened into a full-fledged grin, and she ran one thumb lazily across my cheek. “Why are you all red?” Her teasing tone caused a new tumult in my already racing heart.

It was an old joke between us, and she knew damn well why. How could she not? I absolutely hated that she was enjoying this so much. My face only got hotter as she pointed out my rosy hue, and I tried not to revel in the tingles that the brush of her finger had sparked in me. I gritted my teeth, turned on beyond belief and completely annoyed with both of us.

In an effort to escape the awkwardness of the situation, I cleared my throat and sidled by her, snagging the bloody wipe and carelessly discarded packaging as I went. “What are you doing here?” I asked, completely ignoring her question. “I thought I was picking you up at your hotel.”

She leaned casually against the row of lockers and folded her arms across her chest. She was openly studying me—all of me—which was very distracting. My face was on fire, and I’d started to sweat, to say nothing of the moisture collecting in other places. I set my shoulders and my jaw and looked her in the eye.

“I just came in to run the bridge with Eddie. We have a countdown meeting today at eighteen-hundred hours, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to fit it in after that.” She shrugged as if the subject didn’t interest her.

I wandered over to the row of sinks lining one wall and turned my back on her to study my new wound in the mirror. I frowned at my reflection and sighed. The cut was extremely noticeable. I pursed my lips and prodded the gash experimentally, wincing at the splinters of pain that exploded at the touch.

In the mirror, I saw Allison step up behind me. She leaned over and put her hands over top of mine to still them, and the majority of her body pressed up against my back. I froze and forced myself not to gasp. Once the initial haze of arousal subsided and I was thinking clearly, I spun around so we were face-to-face. I narrowed my eyes at her. What the hell was she playing at? She knew damn well what kind of turmoil her caress induced, yet she did it anyway.

“You shouldn’t poke at it,” Allison said softly, staring into my eyes. She brushed a lock of hair back off my forehead, and I fought the urge to shiver at the rush that ignited just about everywhere. We continued to look at one another for a long moment, the tension between us thick and heavy. “You might need stitches.” Her hand moved to cup my cheek. The touch was brief, there and gone in an instant. But the sensation was seared into my soul.

I refused to drop my gaze, even though every cell in my body screamed at me to get the hell out of there. It was a test of wills now, and although we both knew she got to me, I refused to let her win all the points in this ridiculous competition.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” I couldn’t keep the haughty tone out of my voice.

Allison’s eyes darkened, and her expression said she knew exactly what was going through my mind. Even after all this time, she could still read me. I wished I was able to keep something from her.

“At least put a Band-Aid on it.”

I ignored her and slipped past her to my locker. As I applied my deodorant and shrugged into my shirt, I glanced at her over my shoulder. I’d seen her expression a million times before, and as always, it made me uneasy. She was wearing her closed mask, a surefire indication she was about to treat me like someone she barely knew. I’d refused to play by her rules; she was taking her marbles and going home, figuratively speaking.

Pushing my edginess aside, I turned back to face her, buttoning my shirt. She was digging through her bag, obviously rummaging for the supplies she’d need to take a shower. I watched her in silence for a few long moments, but she refused to look at me.

“So,” I said finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, “since we’re both here, do you want to grab breakfast before we head over to Manhattan? Do we have time?”

“Sure.” The chill in Allison’s voice sent a ripple up my spine and made me faintly nauseous. She focused solely on her bag, almost as if I weren’t even there.