Kismet: A Serendipity Novella (7 page)

Her eyes shone with surprise and gratitude.
“Thank you for that,” she said, yet she moved out of his
embrace.

In front of his eyes, she mentally and
emotionally pulled herself together, internalizing the emotions
she’d allowed to surface. “I’m glad we finally talked about this.
I’m glad we had ... closure.”

Trevor blinked in shock at her stark words
and suddenly cool tone. He’d thought he needed closure, too. No
longer. Yet somehow she’d decided they’d wrapped things up between
them in a nice bow.

But as far as he was concerned, things were
even messier now than they’d been before. Because Trevor knew what
meaningless sex was like—and what he and Lissa shared was a hell of
a lot more. No way was he willing to let her just walk out of his
life as if last night meant nothing.

“I don’t know where you got the idea that
last night was about closure,” he said, folding his arms across his
chest as he faced her down. “News flash, sweetheart. We’re not
close to over.”

Lissa blew out a long breath and stared at
him as if he’d gone mad. “So ... what? We’re going to be together
for another twenty-four hours, torture ourselves with what could
have been ... and then what? I’ll go back to Serendipity, to my
daughter—to Brad’s daughter,” she said bluntly. “And you’ll stay
here. Why prolong the agony?”

He couldn’t deny she had a point. When it
came to obstacles, they had plenty. Nor could he say he was ready
to deal with everything her real life had to offer, including her
daughter, her ex, and Serendipity.

“I don’t have all the answers,” he told her
honestly. “The only thing I do know is that if it’s going to hurt
that much to walk away, it means there’s something meaningful there
to begin with.” He held out his hands and waited, holding his
breath.

“Damn it, Trevor,” she muttered, and walked
into his waiting arms.

He held her close and suddenly her stomach
growled. He heard as well as felt the vibration and laughed.

“I’m hungry,” she said.

“Let’s go out and get breakfast.”

She stepped back and gestured to his
see-through shirt and her bare legs. “I have this and a formal
gown,” she reminded him.

“Personally, I like this.”

She wrinkled her nose at him and he laughed.
“Fine. Go shower. I’ll give you a heavier shirt and a pair of
sweats and socks to go back to the hotel in. You can change and
then we’ll go for breakfast. Better?”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

A few minutes later, she’d shut herself in
his bathroom and turned on the shower, while he lowered himself
onto his bed and groaned, running a hand through his already
messed-up hair.

He meant what he’d said a few minutes
earlier. He didn’t have any real answers for the future, but he’d
just bought himself twenty-four hours with Lissa.

For now, that was enough.

Still stunned by their heart-to-heart and
the fact that Trevor wasn’t letting her just leave, Lissa found
herself sitting across from him at a small crepe place he said he
enjoyed. She ordered an apple cinnamon crepe and they ate in a
silence that was oddly companionable, considering the safe world
she lived in had crumbled around her. She was facing interminable
heartache and yet here she was, sitting across from him anyway.

“So what are your immediate job plans?” he
asked.

She patted her mouth with the napkin and met
his gaze. “Well, after I interview you, I have to go home and get
to work on Ethan Barron. Do you remember him?”

He nodded. “My sister told me he came back
to town after ten years, bought the Harrington estate, married
Faith Harrington, and surprised the hell out of everyone in town by
being a millionaire.”

“After his parents died and he disappeared,
everyone thought he’d end up in jail ... or worse.”

“Helluva story for you to write, though,”
Trevor said. “Then what?”

Lissa shrugged. “So far it’s been freelance.
I’m hoping something permanent will come up, but even this way I’m
making more money than I was at Cuppa Café and writing the town
obits.” She lifted her coffee cup and took a long sip.

“Which means you aren’t committed to staying
in Serendipity because of your work?” he asked.

Her hands began to shake and she grasped her
coffee cup for something to hold on to. “Serendipity is my home,”
she said, hoarsely. It was her security. “My family is there. My
friends ...” Hard-earned friends, she might have added. Because
Lissa didn’t let people in easily. In fact, she was better at
driving them away. “Livvy’s life is there.”

Trevor shot her a knowing look, one that
said he knew she was panicking. “Who are your friends these days?”
he asked, smoothly changing the subject.

She didn’t know why, but she was grateful
not to have to think beyond right now. “You’re really
interested?”

Again, that knowing yet patient look crossed
his face. “How else can I get to know you again?” he asked.

She sighed and shook her head, unable to
deny him even the simplest of answers, even if he wouldn’t like
what he learned about her. “For awhile, I was lucky I had friends,”
she admitted. “I was unhappy, Trevor. Around Livvy I put up a good
front, but when I wasn’t? I was a raving bitch to most people.” She
couldn’t meet his gaze, not proud of the woman she’d become for a
while.

“Unhappiness can drain you.”

He sounded like he understood, but she still
couldn’t look at him. “I’m lucky Kate Andrews decided she liked me.
She’d come into the coffee shop, buy herself something, and hang
out at the counter, talking to me when it was quiet and I wasn’t
serving.”

“Kate ...” he said as if trying to place
her.

“Long, reddish-brown hair, best friends with
Faith Harrington,” she said, to jog his memories of their high
school days.

He nodded. “I remember her. She was always
outgoing. Nice.”

“And persistent,” Lissa said, wrinkling her
nose at the memory. “She insisted I leave Livvy with my mom and
come to Joe’s with her and her friends on Wednesday nights. It’s
still Ladies Night. Soon Wednesdays became a ritual, and so did
book club once a month. We rotate houses.” She shrugged. “After
spending most of my time holed up in the house, eventually I had
friends again.” She smiled at the thought of her small clique.
“There’s Kate and some other girls from high school, Stacy Garner
and Tanya Santos.” And now she even considered Faith Harrington
one, too.

“And then Faith came back and your career
took off ...” he said, as if reading her mind.

Lissa shook her head. “It wasn’t quite that
simple.” Drawing a deep breath, she recounted to Trevor how
godawful rude she’d been to Faith on her return to Serendipity.

“When Faith got together with Ethan, I took
great pleasure in reminding her that though he could wrap a woman
around his finger, he didn’t know the first thing about sticking
around.” She winced at the reminder, knowing she’d said far worse
to Faith—and God, she regretted it.

“Are you trying to scare me off?” Trevor
asked, reaching across the table and grasping her hand.

His heat seared her skin but the warmth in
his eyes undid her, crumbling defenses she’d tried so hard to
build. “I just want you to know who I am, so there are no
surprises.”

He grinned. “You’re forgetting I’ve seen you
at your worst. I also know you only act out when you’re feeling
jealous or threatened.”

Lissa’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Yeah, well, maybe I was jealous. From the outside, it seemed like
Faith had it all. Even with her father in jail, she came back and
opened a business, immediately fell back in with her old friends
... and things were so difficult for me at the time ...” She
trailed off, thinking about Faith’s story. “I didn’t know how hard
it had been for her until the interview. Not that anything excuses
my behavior.” In fact, she’d punish her daughter if she ever
treated anyone the way Lissa had Faith.

“Maybe you were afraid that since Faith had
returned, she’d take Kate away from you and you’d really be
alone?”

Trevor’s perceptiveness took her off
guard.

She was mortified he’d homed in on the one
thing she’d never admitted out loud—or even to herself. Faith’s
return home had threatened the life she’d built, but how had Trevor
known? It was so scary, how well he got her, and yet he wasn’t
running away as fast as he could.

She didn’t understand it. Her life never
went the way she wanted and so she couldn’t begin to trust this
fragile thing they were building. Yet Trevor was persistent—with
his words, his understanding, and his gentle touch. Even now, he
maintained contact, his thumb rubbing circles over her wrist.

“I’m guessing that didn’t happen?” he asked
gently. “Kate stuck around?”

Lissa managed a smile along with a nod. “Of
course Kate ripped into me for how I treated Faith and she was
right, too. But Kate’s persistent. She just kept including me and
including Faith. We even did karaoke together at Joe’s.”

Trevor grinned. “I’d have paid good money to
see that.”

Lissa grimaced. “Not something I want to
repeat.”

His expression sobered as he said, “But
Faith gave you that interview when she could have called on any
well-known reporter who’d have killed for her story. There must
have been a reason.”

Lissa shook her head, still dumbfounded by
that. “To this day I don’t know why, but I’ll be forever grateful
that she did. Faith taught me about humility and forgiveness and so
many other things.”

Trevor treated her to a warm smile. “That’s
what I admire about you—your willingness to admit when you’re
wrong. Sometimes it takes a while and you come around kicking and
screaming, but you do it and that takes guts.” He cleared his
throat. “So does having a baby at eighteen and living through a
hellish marriage.”

Lissa blinked in surprise, a lump forming in
her throat. “Don’t go canonizing me. I’m still no saint,” she
reminded him.

“Especially not in the bedroom,” he said,
his eyes darkening. And that quickly, serious conversation was
over.

*

Lissa and Trevor parted ways after
breakfast. Trevor decided to head into the office to get some work
done while Lissa went to her hotel room to begin working on the
article about him. In truth, Lissa suspected he needed time alone
as much as she did.

Time to remind herself that despite how
easily they fit together when they were alone, life wasn’t about
living in a bubble and they had way too many obstacles between them
to think about a future. Back in her hotel, she settled in with her
laptop and began writing about Trevor Dane. The boy who’d pulled
himself up and out of Serendipity to become one hell of a man.

By the time the evening approached, Lissa
had accomplished more than she’d hoped for considering her state of
mind, and she’d even managed to take a nap. She luxuriated in a
warm bubble bath and then pulled out the simple black dress
Trevor’s secretary had chosen for the dinner party.

From the things Trevor had said and things
her research had indicated, Alexander Wittman was a big part of
Trevor’s life, his mentor as well as his friend. For that reason,
Lissa wanted to make a good impression—and not just as a reporter
doing a story. Though it was silly, if Trevor was going to bring
her as his date, she wanted him to feel proud. Last night had been
easier. Dressed in a ballgown and feeling like a princess, she’d
almost been able to believe she belonged at the event.

But now, as Trevor helped her out of the
limousine, nerves assailed her. Though he hadn’t taken his hungry
gaze off her, and though he clearly approved of the way she looked,
her insecurities came rushing back. After all, if her husband, the
man whose baby she’d borne and who’d married her, hadn’t seen her
as country club material, why would Trevor’s business associates
and friends see her any differently?

When she’d attended as Trevor’s
reporter/date, she had been able to put those feelings aside, but
now that he was looking at her possessively, she was petrified
she’d fall short and embarrass him.

Unaware of her inner turmoil, he placed a
hand at the small of her back. “Ready?” he asked.

She let out a deep breath. “Of course.” She
walked toward the waiting doorman, who opened the door for
them.

“Good evening, Mr. Dane. Mr. and Mrs.
Wittman are expecting you,” he said, nodding politely to Lissa and
acknowledging her with a smile.

“Thank you, George. See you on our way out.”
Trevor steered Lissa away from the bank of double elevators and
toward a separate single lift down the hall. “This way,” he
said.

Once they were alone outside the small
elevator, Trevor turned to her. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head and forced a smile.
“Nothing. Why?”

“You’re uptight and your spine’s so rigid
I’m afraid it’ll break,” he said, grasping both her hands in his.
“Are you nervous about meeting Emma? Don’t be. You’ll love
her.”

Lissa shook her head, feeling stupid, but if
she didn’t let out her fears, she’d definitely screw things up even
worse. “I don’t belong here,” she said on a rush.

“What?”

“The private elevator, a dinner party where
we’re dressed nicer than any dinner I’ve ever been to ...” She
shook her head and swallowed over the lump in her throat. “If you
were bringing me here as the reporter to cover your story it would
be one thing, but—”

He squeezed her hands tighter, forcing her
to meet his gaze. “But what?”

Just say it
, a small voice in her
head insisted. “But my own husband didn’t want to be seen with me
at formal events. These people you love so much are going to take
one look at me and know I’m so far out of my league—” She cut
herself off, horrified by the truth she’d blurted out.