As If You Never Left Me (Crimson Romance) (5 page)

“Hey, Joely. Come on in.”

She did, brushing deliberately against him as she passed. Lightly, but deliberately. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

“Much.” He closed the door behind her. “How was your day?”

“Very good. We’re selling useless baubles and knick-knacks hand over fist.”

“Great to hear.” He paused, studying her face. “You have something important to say?”

She grimaced, exasperated. What right did he have to still be able to read her face so well? “Sort of. I thought you might like to have dinner.”

“Yes. I haven’t had much but noodles and broth today, and I’m starving.”

“Noodles and broth? Virginia’s secret recipe, I assume?”

“Yes, and very good. It seemed to kill the bug, too.”

“I told you, it wasn’t a bug, it was altitude sickness.”

“And I still think you made that up.”

“I didn’t, and I’ll prove it to you.”

“When?”

“Tonight, maybe. I’m inviting you to dinner. At my house.”

The air in the room seemed to still as he looked at her, a smile lurking in his eyes, on his mouth. Joely caught her breath. He was like a force of nature, the eighth natural wonder of the world —

“At your house?” he asked.

She forced her expression to remain neutral. “That’s what I said. I’ll even cook.”

He grinned. “Wow. That’s big.”

“It’s huge, Rey. Now come on, before I change my mind.”

• • •

Joely pulled into her garage and shut off the ignition. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, she saw Rey’s headlights as his rental car stopped behind hers in the driveway.

Unaccountably nervous, as if Rey’s opinion actually mattered to her, she got out of the car. He closed his door behind him and headed into the garage.

“And I thought driving in New York was scary,” he said.

She snorted. “That wasn’t scary. That was fairly tame.”

“I’ll bet it’s scarier in the daytime, when you can see how far the road drops off on either side.”

“Actually, it’s scarier in the dark, when you can’t.” She pointed toward the door that led into the house. “This way.”

As she led the way, he scanned her small garage with what Joely interpreted as a critical eye.

“It’s small,” she said, anticipating criticism. Their life in New York had been so different from what she had made for herself here. Of course he would find it strange. “It’s just me — I don’t need a mansion.”

“It’s a log cabin,” he said, with some wonder in his voice.

She smiled, pleasantly surprised. So that was what had captured his attention. “Yes, it is.”

“That’s — so cool.”

The odd, almost envious glint in his eyes caught her off guard. Rey was a city boy, born and bred — what was he doing getting excited about a log cabin? For a split second, she wondered if she really knew him as well as she thought she did. It was a disconcerting thought.

“I think it’s neat.” She opened the door into the house, at the same time pushing a button to close the garage door. “I wish I could show you the view. It’s fantastic.”

“Yeah, it’s a little dark right now.” Following her into the house, he laid a hand against the curve of her waist and said softly into her ear, “Maybe I’ll see it in the morning.”

She twisted away from his touch, fighting an instinct to move into his partial embrace. “You’ll be back at the lodge in the morning.”

“Are you sure about that?” His voice was velvet. She could almost feel it on her skin, like fingers trailing, leaving arousal in their wake.

She turned and fixed him with the best glare she could summon with her blood heating up inside her. “Don’t push it, Rey.”

Moving past him, she went to the refrigerator and pulled out makings for salad, tossing the head of lettuce onto the cabinet with more force than strictly necessary. Of all the things she didn’t want Rey to be right now, arrogant was at the top of the list.

Giving him a dark look through narrowed eyes, she amended that. Sexy was at the top of the list, followed closely by desirable. Arrogant ranked third.

“I’m sorry,” Rey said. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Nervous?” Arrogant had just been kicked to fourth place by adorable. “Why would you be nervous?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“This was your idea, Rey. If it’s not working, maybe you should back out.”

The red bell pepper she’d just put on the cutting board rolled off and hit the floor. Rey picked it up and put it back, coming uncomfortably close to her again as he stepped closer to the kitchen counter. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Exasperated, Joely pulled a knife out of a drawer and set to work on the head of lettuce. “I don’t know. See if you can find the chicken in the fridge.”

There was silence for a time as Rey pulled out the thawed chicken breasts and a pair of tomatoes. He helped himself to another knife and a cutting board, and within minutes they were following an old rhythm, one worked out over practice in the kitchen of their first apartment where the space had been limited, she cutting veggies for the salad, he assembling chicken cacciatore in a skillet on the stove. He swiped a handful of her chopped bell peppers, a handful of her mushrooms. She passed him a bottle of oregano before he asked for it.

It wasn’t until that moment, when his fingers touched hers on the bottle of spice, that she realized what was happening. How automatically it had happened. Old rhythms, picked up as if not a day had passed, much less over a year. She swallowed hard, thinking about the implications. About other rhythms, other rituals. His body and hers, moving together, taking, giving —

She didn’t pass him the basil until he asked. Twice.

• • •

“Just like I remembered it.” Rey pushed his chair back from the table, leaving a scraped-clean plate behind. He meant everything had been just like he remembered it, not just the chicken cacciatore, which admittedly had more going for it in terms of sentiment than in gourmet quality cooking. But the way they’d cooked it …

Joely swept up his plate as well as her own, carrying them to the sink. “Glad you liked it.”

“Remember when we used to both get home from work and make that for dinner?”

She didn’t look at him. “Yeah, I remember.”

He smiled, taking advantage of the fact she couldn’t see him. He got the impression she was remembering a lot of things. That was good. He wanted to remind her of the good times, so she could forget the bad times. And do the same for himself. When he remembered what he had done, how he had, in so many ways, just thrown her away, it hurt. He wanted to stop hurting.

But what should his next move be? He didn’t want her to get dinner wound up and decide it was time for him to leave. Desperately scanning the living room, his attention lighted on a CD player on a shelf by the TV. “Music?”

“Sure, why not.” She sounded like she hadn’t even heard him.

He picked out a CD from the stack next to the player — a female artist whose name he didn’t recognize. The music started with a soft arrangement of guitars. That would work. He let it play and sat down on the couch.

“Leave the dishes,” he said. “Come sit down.”

She turned off the tap. Bubbles had risen in the sink. “You’re going to do the dishes later?”

“I just might. It seems fair, doesn’t it?”

She almost smiled. He saw it form at the corner of her mouth, then watched regretfully as she caught it and forced it back where it had come from. But she left the dishes, and sat down beside him on the couch. Stiffly, though, and as far away from him as she could manage.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said.

“Dinner’s not much.”

“It was plenty.”

She softened a little, her stiff spine relaxing. She seemed closer to him suddenly, though she hadn’t changed position on the couch. She started to speak, then looked away. Finally she said, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He paused, watching her profile as her mouth, too, released much of its tension. “Once I got my head out of my ass and realized what I’d done.”

She laughed lightly, the sound almost hiding the pain he knew lay behind it. “Took you long enough.”

He edged toward her, his arm along the back of the couch. “Why didn’t you answer any of my letters?”

“Because I never read them.”

That stung. “Why not?”

She took a moment to answer. He thought he saw a crystalline glint in her eye, a tear poised on the edge of her lower lashes. “Because I knew how much it would hurt.”

He could say nothing to that. He’d caused that hurt, and in that moment, he realized how monumental a thing it was for him to ask her to forgive him. How could he have believed it might be possible? Was he really that arrogant, to think she could let go of all that pain, just to have him back?

But he leaned closer, because he also realized how empty he’d become over the last two years, how much he needed her. In the background, the music had become more strident, the female vocalist singing harsh words against a former lover. Appropriate, he thought, though he’d hoped for something sweeter. Joely seemed not to notice.

His eyes drank in her face, the porcelain skin flushed with emotion, the distant, ice-blue eyes. “I love you,” he said. He hadn’t meant to.

She turned toward him and the glitter of tears overflowed onto her face. “Oh, Rey, don’t hit me with that. It’s not — ”

He didn’t give her a chance to explain what it wasn’t, because his body, moving apparently of its own volition, closed the distance between them. His mouth caught hers, molded itself to her familiar shapes. A small sound rose in her throat and he pressed closer. His hands curved against her waist.

She didn’t pull back. She didn’t know why she didn’t pull back — God knew she should have. But the taste and the movement of his mouth against hers were too good, too beautiful. Her mouth opened under his as it had so carefully refused to before, at the lodge. She let him inside.

She moaned as his tongue tangled with hers, soft but insistent, stoking a flame that burned all through her body. It had been a long time since she’d felt that kind of heat. She’d never felt it with anyone but Rey.

Stop. Stop now before it gets any worse.

Or should that be any better … She was utterly confused by now. So confused that she did nothing when Rey’s hands slid up along her sides, then forward to cup her breasts. He pressed against her, thumbs finding her nipples. So familiar, the heat and the shape of his hands on her, caressing and arousing her breasts. The smell of his hair as he shifted, burying his face in her neck. His tongue traced her neck from her shoulder up to the curve of bone behind her ear, as desire moved hot and liquid through her body, pooling between her legs in familiar, wet arousal.

A voice intruded. Raspy and feminine, it sang, “You were wrong wrong wrong, then you were gone gone gone,” with a background of darkly strumming guitars.

Joely pushed herself back, her heart beating so hard it made her dizzy. “That’s enough, Rey.” Her words didn’t sound as forceful as she’d intended. In fact, they sounded almost plaintive, as if she’d said, “Please don’t stop,” instead.

But he let go of her and leaned back as she rose from the couch to walk back into the kitchen. “I’ll just do the dishes,” she said. “You can turn on the TV or something, if you like.”

The CD was still playing, though. Rey made no move to turn it off, in spite of the imprecations the singer was hurling at her ex. She dared a glance over her shoulder. He just sat there, staring at her.

“Maybe you should go,” she said.

“I can’t.” He grinned sheepishly. “The lady at the lodge says I’m not welcome back. I’m not sure what I did, but it must have been bad.”

Thin-lipped, Joely stared down at the dirty dishes.
You engaged Virginia’s imagination.
“I’ll call her. I’m sure I can change her mind.”

There was a long pause, almost long enough to make Joely look up, but she stared resolutely at the sink. Finally Rey said, “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

She stirred the soapy water with her hand, watching the detergent bubbles cling to her skin. “No. You can sleep on the couch.”

Behind them, the jilted lover sang, “And when you came back, I just kissed you and said hello again.”

Rey offered to help Joely with the dishes, but she told him no. She had no desire to have him that close to her for more than two or three seconds at a time, for fear she might do something she would regret. Like pull off all his clothes and rub herself all over his naked body. So she told him to relax and not worry about the dishes. He stayed on the couch, and when the CD had run its course, he turned on the TV.

Listening to him flip channels, Joely had a thought. “Where’s your luggage?”

“In the trunk of my car.”

She wiped the last plate dry. “You should probably go get it, then, if you’re staying.”

He twisted sideways, looking at her over the top of the couch. His gaze scanned her face, searching. She wasn’t sure what he wanted to see. Schooling her features — except for an eyebrow that insisted on quirking upward — she met his scrutiny evenly.

“You at least want a toothbrush or something,” she said finally.

Whatever he’d been looking for on her face, he must not have found it, because now he looked disappointed. “Yeah. Probably.”

He rolled off the couch and walked toward the door. She yanked the plug out of the bottom of the sink and stood for a moment watching the water drain. When it had finally emptied, she dried her hands and went back into the living room.

The couch was still warm where he’d been lying. She laid her hand on the warm space and sat still for a moment. His smell lingered. Reluctantly, she drew her hand away and moved to the other end of the couch. She’d just settled into a spot when he came back in, lugging a large suitcase and a smaller computer bag. He set them down next to the couch.

“So this is my room?” The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Yes.”

He sat next to her. She stood up, to get away from his warmth, his smell, all the temptation they sparked in her. “I’m going to bed.”