Body Heat (41 page)

Authors: Susan Fox

BOOK: Body Heat

10.22Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Relief sent him rushing over to grip her shoulders comfortingly. Now it all made sense. “Sweetheart, you’re worn out.” When her surgery was scheduled, they’d discussed her skipping a semester at university, but she’d wanted to catch up her courses and exams so they’d graduate together next year. Besides, once they were on their honeymoon, she’d have a week of total rest.

She closed her eyes for a long moment, then opened them and gazed up at him. “I am tired, but that’s not what I meant. We’re so, you know, settled and comfortable as a couple.”

“Settled and comfortable?” Those didn’t sound like bad things except for the tone of her voice.

“I mean, we’re all stable and b-boring”—she ducked her head, again not meeting his eyes—“and there’s no spark or excitement or p-passion.”

His hands jerked off her shoulders as if she’d scalded him. She thought he was boring? That their love life sucked? Well, just
shit
! His hands clenched, unclenched, clenched again. Yeah, he wasn’t the most exciting guy in the world. How could he be when his mom had told him, at the age of six, that he had to be the man of the house—then at age seven he’d begun protecting Merilee as well?

Through an effort of will, he straightened his clenched fingers. A good man didn’t give in to anger. He didn’t beat up on women, he protected them. Matt was
not
a temperamental, irresponsible, violent man like his father, the man who had finally—thank God—abandoned him and his mom when he was six.

Matt had thought his maturity and consideration were qualities Merilee loved. Jesus, she’d said so. He’d never had a clue she was unhappy. He wanted to yell at her, to shake her, but he fought to keep his temper in check.

She gazed up, cheeks flushing. “I didn’t tell you all the things I got at the stagette.”

“What?” Startled out of his anger, he gaped at her. She’d gone from dropping that bomb to talking about the stagette? Who was this girl?

“I was so totally embarrassed. Like, there were Ben Wa balls.”

Balls? To play some kind of game? He scrubbed his hands roughly over his face, hoping this was all some horrible dream. “What are you talking about?”

“V-vaginal balls.”

Vaginal balls? He gaped at her, his anger and frustration momentarily forgotten. “Seriously?”

“I mean, can you just imagine? That’s not, I mean, we wouldn’t . . .” She buried her face against his chest.

Oh yeah, he could imagine. Sometimes he’d wanted to try something a little kinky in bed, but he never said anything, afraid she’d think he was a perv. Afraid, too, of where it might take him. Of turning into a man like his dad.

Like that one time, after a night at the pub with their friends, she’d been giggling about being a naughty girl for drinking so much. He was horny and he’d had too much to drink too, and, joking around, he’d said naughty girls should be punished. She’d teased, “I dare you.” Then he’d pulled the long scarf off her neck, tied her hands above her head, forced her on her stomach, and spanked her. He’d hit Merilee. Yeah, he’d only been fooling around, but he’d actually hit her.

Only when she’d cried out in pain had he come to his senses and stopped. Horrified, he’d sobered up immediately and untied her. The shock in her eyes was more than he could bear. He’d apologized profusely and she’d forgiven him, even promised to forget it ever happened, and after that he’d taken care to always be gentle with her.

Merilee was sweet and wholesome, not kinky or skanky. Some of his guy friends boasted about their girlfriends, and sometimes—yeah, he was a red-blooded male—he was envious. But often he just thought the behavior was slutty. Like sexting a crotch shot, or giving a bunch of dudes blow jobs at a party? No, thanks. Merilee had morals and he respected that.

He wasn’t surprised those vaginal balls had embarrassed her. Yet she said she wanted more spark, excitement, passion. Things she didn’t find with him. Yeah, that cut deep. There were different kinds of passion. Their love was like a steady golden candle, not sparks and fireworks.

They’d grown up together. Never even dated anyone else. Best friends who, yeah, were comfortable together. What the hell was wrong with that? Loving security was the most important thing in the world, as he well knew after having a dad like his.

As for sparks, how could he and M have ignited sparks? From the bits of girl talk he’d overheard with their friends, it seemed like sparks happened when you first met someone and fell for them.

And what was Merilee’s idea of excitement anyhow? Going out dancing? A picnic on the beach? They did those things occasionally and he liked them too, but money and time were in short supply.

They’d always been so practical.
She
had too; it wasn’t just him. If she’d wanted something different, why the hell hadn’t she said so? She had no trouble deciding what movie to see, what kind of pizza to order. What kind of careers they should both have. Mostly, he went along because it all sounded fine to him.

But
this,
this business about calling off the wedding—no, it didn’t sound fucking
fine
at all.

“Matt, are you furious? Hurt?” Warm breath brushed his neck. “Say something. Tell me how you feel.”

“I feel . . .” Betrayed. Mad. Frustrated. Shocked. “Shitty.”

She wound her arms around his waist and held him tightly. “I’m sorry, so sorry. I do love you, but over the past few days, it’s just been feeling wrong.”

It felt wrong to marry the guy she loved?

Her arms felt like a vice, so he shoved free of them. Those blue eyes welling with tears didn’t match up with what she was saying. “Then if it feels
wrong,
” he said bitterly, “we’ll call it off. We’ll call the whole damned thing off.” The words flew out of his mouth, surprising him.

Surprising her, too, from her expression. “The whole thing?”

“Us,” he spat the word out. And now, all those crappy feelings taking over, he was on a roll. “We’re
settled,
we don’t have passion, we’re
wrong.
Call it quits.”

“I didn’t . . . You aren’t saying you want to break up?”

Break up. Break up with Merilee? Those words brought him back to reality. The idea was unthinkable. But so was her calling off the wedding. He shook his head, not knowing anything anymore. “I . . . I don’t know.” He hadn’t felt so shitty in his entire life. “What are you saying?”

“Just that we shouldn’t be getting married Saturday.”

“But . . .” He tried to think it through. “Then what? We’re the same two people. Settled, comfortable, all those things you don’t like. We’re not suddenly going to get
exciting,
whatever the hell you mean by that word.”

Expression stunned, she said, “I didn’t think that far ahead.”

When he tried to, he felt only a bleak chill in his heart. Pissed and hurt though he might be, he told her the truth. “I can’t imagine life without you.”

“Me either.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. He felt like screaming, crying, punching his fist through a wall. The same shit his dad had done, except sometimes that fist hit his mom instead. When Matt was a boy, every time he’d acted out his mom had said he was behaving like his dad, he was breaking her heart.

Yeah, he could hold it together. “We’re in no shape to decide the big stuff right now. We’re both in shock. Let’s take it one step at a time. First step’s cancelling the wedding.”

She blinked back tears and nodded. “Okay, yes, I can think about that. Though my family will be furious. The money they’ve laid out, all the planning. Oh Matt, I got Theresa and Kat and Jenna to come all the way here for nothing.”

Nothing. Their beautiful wedding, the happiest day of their lives, had turned into
nothing.
In fact, maybe their whole fourteen year relationship was turning into nothing. Tears burned behind his eyes and he clenched his fists, hot tension vibrating up his arms and tightening his shoulders.

“I’ll tell Mom,” he said, his voice raw. For years, his mother had thought of Merilee as her daughter. “And I’ll call the cruise lines.”

“Theresa will draw up one of her project plans,” she said bleakly. “To cancel everything else.” She stepped away from him. “I need to go, so I can tell everyone and get things started.”

“You shouldn’t drive.” Nor should he, and the last thing he wanted was to be confined in a car with her, but he’d always looked after her. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

She held up her hands. “No. Please. I’ll go slow, but I need a few minutes alone.”

Torn, he said, “Promise you’ll be careful?”

“Promise.” Her blue eyes were huge, wet, and swollen.

They stared at each other for long seconds, then she said in a plaintive voice, “Love you, M.”

It was what they always said when they said goodbye. The only time he’d ever heard her say it so sadly was when the doctor had diagnosed her endometriosis and they’d realized they might never have the children they both wanted so badly. Yeah, they could adopt, but they’d had that soul mate thing going on and wanted to create their own babies. Maybe it had been a sign. A sign that they weren’t soul mates after all.

But now, as he’d always done, he gave her what she wanted. “Love you, M.” And it was true. She’d betrayed him, angered him, shattered him, but love didn’t die in the space of minutes. Would it, though? For fourteen years, his future had been certain. Now . . . He couldn’t think about it.

In the past, they’d always kissed goodbye. Today, he folded his arms across his chest.

Merilee turned and walked toward her car.

When she had driven away, Matt dragged his hands across his face. Then, because he couldn’t help worrying, couldn’t help caring, he called her house. He had ambivalent feelings about her family. They were good people, interesting ones, yet they rarely gave Merilee what she needed.

When her mother answered, he said, “Rebecca, Merilee’s on her way home. If she doesn’t make it, call me. And when she does, be there for her. All of you. She needs you.”

“But, what . . . ?” Rarely was the high-powered litigator ever at a loss for words.

“It’s her story to tell. Just, for once, would you put her first?”

“Put her first? But, we—”

He hung up, cutting her off. No, they didn’t put Merilee first. He was the one who’d done that.

Everything in his life was based on being half of M&M, and now that was gone. He gave a choked sob, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

BRAVA BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

BRAVA and the B logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

ISBN: 978-0-7582-7909-5