Just Surrender... (5 page)

The phone beeped again and Tyler picked it up, and pressed the button, already prepping himself for the required professional response.

“Tyler?”

A woman emerged from the covers like some pagan goddess, lean and tasty, and he remembered that taste. Warm saliva pooled in his mouth.

“Tyler?” repeated the voice on the phone and he shot out of bed, fumbling for both clothes and sanity. Finding neither.

Finally abandoning all pretense of professional response, Tyler turned off the phone and collapsed on the floor.

“Who was that?” asked the seductive voice that had haunted what he thought was a dream. That smooth voice had teased him, tormented him, slayed him.

Tyler looked up, seeing the reflection in the godforsaken mirrored ceiling, and then swallowed hard.

“Cynthia. I’m almost positive it was Cynthia.”

Normally, Tyler was not affected by nudity. He’d seen old nudity, young nudity, dead nudity and baby nudity. But this felt personal. It was his nudity. Betrayal nudity.

Yet even racked with guilt, he still managed to notice Edie’s hotness. He could still remember the feel of her muscles tightening around him, her fingers digging into his back. “I’ll call her later,” he told the naked woman.

“Go on. I’ll help you,” Edie encouraged, as if completely comfortable with the situation.

Her eyes were alert and gleaming with diabolical purpose, and it finally dawned on Tyler that Edie Higgins was not as aimless as she had first appeared. Apparently, Tyler was now her purpose. First, it had meant seducing him. Now it was repairing his relations with his girlfriend, ex-girl—
Cynthia.
For a split second his mind puzzled over those two seemingly incongruous directives, but then the red velvet spread slipped a few inches lower. His bleary gaze was drawn to a long sliver of golden skin and Tyler was struck by two seemingly incongruous directives: wanting to bed Edie again, and wanting to fall back into his former peaceful life.

“I think I’m going to get dressed,” he announced, hoping she’d get dressed, as well. Surprising no one, Edie chose to ignore his hint and instead watched him pull on his pants with those brown eyes. Tyler buttoned his shirt, feeling helplessly exposed, but then he noticed the knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and in a moment of rebellion, he left it hanging brazenly undone. Childish? Yes.

Courageously he punched in Cynthia’s number.

“Tyler?”

Tyler cleared his throat, turning away from the allure of the woman on the bed. “Yes? You called?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not a problem.”

“I owe you an explanation,” Cynthia said, talking as if Tyler was the victim. And actually, he reminded himself, he was the victim. He was the injured party in this whole blasted experience. Tyler straightened his shoulders and began to walk the room, listening quietly while Cynthia carried on.

“I did something terribly wrong, and you didn’t deserve it, and I shouldn’t have, but sometimes I want to…
feel.
I want to reach out and grab life, and…I could never do that with you. He was there, and it was stupid, and I knew it was stupid, but I did something stupid, something wild and crazy and Tyler, I realized I should have done ended things with you a long time ago.”

Cynthia had cheated on him? She had hedonistic, indulgent, awesome sex with someone else? And
that’s
why she had broken up with him?

“Say something,” Cynthia begged. “You’re mad, aren’t you? You’re disappointed with me.”

Disappointed?
Tyler considered that one, and rejected it. “I’m not disappointed with you, Cynthia,” he offered, which was completely honest.
Relieved
was probably the more precise description. He felt a gentle tap on his back, and when he turned around, Edie was there, no sheet covering her, because apparently flagrante delicto was the best way to resurrect his conscience.

Tyler tried to look away from her, but ten million years of male evolution had created a male-cornea female-aureole neural pathway that would not be denied.

Stay in the moment. Wounded Animal. Victim.

Now feeling more in control, he muted the phone. “Yes?”

“What’s going on? What did she do? Are you okay?” And yes, Edie seemed entranced. Not by sexual hypnosis, but human drama. His human drama.

“She didn’t do anything. There’s nothing going on.”

Edie didn’t believe him for a second. “Oh, come on. You can tell me. Let me help.”

“She made a mistake,” he admitted, caving to the lure of her sparkling eyes and rose-tatted breast. Actually, the tattoo was fairly good work, small, with elaborate details, tiny thorns, and a deep pink that matched the pink of her…

“Oh,” Edie began and then her eyes grew large. “
Really?
She cheated? That’s so cool.” Noting the dark look on his face, she quickly rephrased. “Well, not cool, but it speaks a lot to her humanity, and her insecurities.”

Only Edie would see a mistake as a badge of honor. “Personally I think her humanity stinks.”

“Yeah, sure…” Her outstretched hand encompassed the bordello bed, the massacred sheets and, most painful of all, Tyler’s Moral High Ground… “But in light of everything, this way you get a free ride. Pardon the pun. Have you thought about what to say?”

“I have nothing else to say to her. It’s done.” There was no pain, no hurt, just a numbing sense of it being over. He glanced at Edie’s not so numbing body. And there was lust. Don’t forget the lust.

Edie met his eyes and he could imagine the wheels turning. “Does she want to get back with you?” Then she whacked herself on the forehead. “What the heck? Of course she wants to get back with you. She wants to start anew, rebuilding your trust, using this as a chance to add new support to a previously faltering relationship.”

It was fascinating to watch her analytical skills at work. All of Edie Higgins’s attention was laser-focused on understanding Cynthia. And why? What possible purpose did she have for that? Unless she was truly invested in healing Cynthia’s pain? Seriously?

Seriously?

Tyler dismissed the thought. And once again, Edie had sucked him into her universe. Lack of sleep. It was the only explanation, and Tyler quickly reined in his wandering focus.

Tyler unmuted the phone. “Cynthia? Sorry.”

“It’s all right. I know you’re busy. I should have waited until you got back.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he told her sincerely.

“Do you mean that?”

“I do.”

“Tyler, what do we do? I don’t think we can go back to where we were.”

“No,” he told her flatly.

“You don’t want to go forward?”

“You sent me the text message,” he pointed out.

“I know, but…no, you’re right. I love you, Tyler.”

Tyler found a nearby wall to support himself. A wall that was trimmed with cavorting nymphs and promiscuous pagan creatures, none of whom cared about moral high ground, or upstanding models of behavior. And each of those devious little creatures was currently watching him, saying, “Hallelujah.”

“I need to go.”

“Yes. I’m sorry, Tyler.”

“Goodbye,” he told her and ended the call. That was that.

Determined to begin anew, determined to make this one right, Edie got her clothes, dressed with lightning speed and then stood next to him in that friendly, buddy, pal sort of way. It didn’t help that his cologne was not the friendly, buddy, pal sort of stuff. It was simple, clean, subtle. Everything that wasn’t her.

“I’m sorry.” Apologizing was easier and more heartfelt than she expected. Humility did not usually sit well with the Higgins family.

He stared at her, and she saw the surprise in his face. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

A lesser person would have taken that and run with it, but Edie needed to do more. She owed him more. “I do. You wouldn’t be here if not for me. You’re not that guy. I’ve treated you badly. I purposefully set out to seduce you only because I didn’t want to be alone, and if I hadn’t done that, you’d be happily talking to your no-longer ex-girlfriend and making things right.”

His smile was lopsided and so very, very tired. “She did cheat on me.”

Edie scoffed because in Tyler’s world mistakes were a Big Freaking Deal. In Edie’s world mistakes were a part of life. But she admired his world, and she wouldn’t suck him into hers. Again.

“Don’t be so rough on her,” Edie said gently. There was hope for these two crazy kids. All they needed was a little push in the right direction and a little Super-Glue, and everything would be okay again.

“We’re done.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again, pulling his tie off the bedside lamp, straightening it, memorizing it. He took it from her, buttoned his shirt and began retying the knot, and she was glad to see a lot of the older Tyler returning.

“Do I have a room?” he asked when she handed him his boots, noticing they weren’t quite as impeccable as the rest. She took the spread and worked at the leather, trying to create an impeccable shine. Better. Not great, but it’d do.

She watched as he restored his clothes and smoothed down his hair, and like magic, the steel was back in the jaw, scruples and honor were back in his eyes, exactly where they belonged. “I’m sure your room is ready. I’ll hit the road and let you get your life back in order.” She wanted to be perky and not so clingy, and she forced a brilliant smile to her face before picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

When she got to the door, he stopped her with a hand to the arm. “Edie. Thank you.”

She glanced at his hand, feeling his touch burn through clothing, through regrets, through all the good intentions that she wanted to keep. “Thank you? For what?”

“For last night. I hurt. It felt good. You were being nice.”

It took a decent man to find something redeeming in her actions. “It was good?”

“It was good,” he repeated, then noticed his hand on her arm and promptly removed it.

“Thanks.”

She opened the door, confident that she was going to walk out of this room that was now swimming with lost ideals, and morning-after regrets, and flashbacks of two bodies moving together as one.

“Edie? Can I see you again?”

In his eyes, hidden among the honor and scruples was vulnerability and desire, neither of which were smart at the moment. Calmly she told herself that she wasn’t going to take advantage of him. He needed to move on to his museum project and to starched blond females named Cynthia, or Buffy, or Penelope. He should be free to wear his Windsor knots without her scheming and toying and in general screwing things up for him.

“You think that’s a good idea?” That was as close to No as she could get.

“I think it’s one of the worst ideas I’ve ever had,” he admitted.

“And you hate admitting that, don’t you?”

He nodded. “You have no idea how humbling it is.”

“I like you, Tyler Hart. You’re such a big lug of ego, but you do it so much nicer than my dad.”

“I’m very glad to hear that.”

He just stood there, and it was the most powerful not-touching she’d ever known. Something about him pulled at her, the buzzing electron orbiting a solid nucleus, helpless to move away from that magnetic, positive charge. The laws of quantum mechanics, much like the laws for foolish people, could not be denied. But maybe she could be a little wiser.

“I can’t see you again,” she said, and she was very proud of herself for actually forming the words.

Not sensing her weakness, or perhaps to take advantage of it, he slowly moved toward her. There was a reckless gleam in his eyes that scared her…that aroused her.

“You’re so good at saying what you don’t mean.” His voice was gruff, raw, probably from lack of sleep, too much emotion. All Edie’s doing.

“You’re not my type.” She turned away from to study the walls, the bed, the marauding wood nymphs.

He came up behind her, pressing her against him and her eyes drifted closed.

“I could be your type,” he whispered in that husky voice, taunting her, seducing her. Edie leaned into the strong arms, the reliable torso, the unshakable erection.

“I don’t get involved,” she answered in a very shakable voice.

“We could be—” his teeth nipped at her ear “—friends.”

Friends.
The word was so rife with potential. Her loins quivered at the thought.

“You don’t understand the female mind,” she protested, which wasn’t a very compelling argument, but his mouth was against her neck, and his hands were wandering beneath her shirt, and frankly, it was a miracle she could think at all.

“Teach me,” spoke the honorable man who was slowly bringing her over to the dark side. “Show me what you want.”

Those nimble fingers moved lower, unzipping her fly, slipping beneath her panties and then slipping between her thighs.
Slipping
being the optimal word because Edie’s dark side was nefariously wet, having been convinced the first time he’d laid hands on her. “It’s not easy,” she breathed. “It’s an…
ohhhh
…intricate pro-pro-pro-cess.”

“I live for intricate processes,” he whispered, his persuasive mouth skimming over her neck. Meanwhile, down below, his fingers were taking their own liberties, stroking and skimming, and for one blissful moment, she reveled in the touch. Then her conscience kicked in. She needed space, distance…
a working brain,
none of which was happening until she…

Untangled him from her and put her clothes regrettably back to rights. Quickly she took a long, safe step away.

His hair was deliciously tousled, his eyes were temptingly hot, and…

Working brain. Working brain.

She stood there, drawing in deep breaths, getting the oxygen flow started once again. The door was there, so close.
Go, Edie.
But because she needed to touch him one last time, Edie tweaked his tie and laughed. “Get cleaned up, get some rest. Lessons start on Saturday.”