No Strings Attached (12 page)

“This isn’t matchmaking. The match has already been made. You two pigheaded idiots
just need to open your eyes and figure out you love each other.”

“Uh-huh. And you believe in fairy tales.”

She smirked. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Good night, Tish.”

She shook her head. “Don’t forget about the charity ball tomorrow night.”

“I’m not going.”

“I already rented a tux for you. It’s hanging near the door. You
are
going. Key building and political contacts you need to talk to are going to be there,
and like it or not, you’re going.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Tish said with a laugh. “See you tomorrow night.”

Clay sat at his desk and looked outside at the growing darkness. The weather had been
unseasonably warm for early March. Maybe spring would come early, which was a good
thing. Clear, nice weather meant more construction days in the year. He’d have to
map that out on his calendar, maybe bid on a few extra projects.

Yeah, right, as if he had even been thinking about work since he’d gotten back from
Hawaii. All he’d thought about was Ella. How she was, what she was doing. Oh, he kept
in touch work-wise through the guys, knew what jobs her crew were working on. He’d
even thought about stopping by, but figured she’d be uncomfortable.

Hell, he was uncomfortable. Which really sucked because he’d never thought twice about
dropping in on her before they’d had their week together in Hawaii.

But before, they’d been friends and business associates.

Now they were…what? What exactly were they now?

Nothing. They were exactly what they’d been before, because that was what Ella wanted.
She’d gotten the sex she’d needed, and she wasn’t interested in having a relationship,
in falling in love, in having what she’d had with James.

Trouble was, his entire focus had changed since that week in Hawaii. And he didn’t
know what the hell to do about it. He’d seen what could happen when you loved someone.
Love, loss. Losing his mom had hurt. It had devastated his father. And him.

Love sucked. Look what it had done to Ella. Losing James had damn near destroyed her.
She’d loved James with her whole heart. And he’d sure as hell loved her. They’d been
faithful to each other. James had talked about Ella as his partner, his friend. Clay
hadn’t understood that kind of love, to be able to feel something that deep for another
person.

He did now. He wanted it now. He wanted it with Ella.

But Ella had already found the love of her life. Clay would never be able to compete
with that. And he wasn’t about to settle for second best.

Which left him right back where he started.

“Ah, hell,” he muttered to himself, picking up the papers on his desk and setting
back to work. He should have known better than to dwell on Ella. It led only to problems
that had no solutions.

“Holy hell and a biscuit,” Tish said.

Ella looked up. “It’s okay?”

“Woman, if I wasn’t straight, I’d be all over you.”

Ella burst out laughing. “Thanks, I think.” She moved to the mirror in her bedroom,
palmed her stomach, and lifted her gaze.

Whoa.
“I can’t believe you made me buy this dress. I can’t breathe.”

“Of course you can’t breathe. It’s a corset. And you’ll need me to get you out of
it at the end of the night, too.”

Ella wasn’t one to dress up, another reason she hated the annual ball. But admittedly,
she felt like a princess tonight. A lot of that had to do with this dress. All black
and satiny, and it hugged her body in ways Ella had never imagined. The strapless
corset top was so snug her breasts nearly spilled out and over the top of the bodice.
The back was laced tight—but not too tight—and it drew in at the waist, flowed over
her hips, and the skirt fell in soft waves to the floor. As she moved back and forth,
Ella caught sight of the high heels Tish had insisted she buy.

“I wear work boots for a living. I’ll never be able to walk in these things.”

“Please,” Tish said, rolling her eyes. “You’re a woman. Fake it for one night.”

She laid her hands on her hips. “I’ll try. And may I say you look ravishing?”

Tish beamed and twirled around in her red ball gown, the color enhancing her dark
skin and mocha eyes. “Thanks. I’m glad you spotted this dress. It’s so me.”

“It’s definitely you. Men will drool on you all night.”

Tish laughed. “No, honey. Tonight is all about you.”

They rode together to the ball, an event hosted in the ballroom of Tulsa’s swankiest
and most expensive hotel. Despite her initial misgivings, Ella found herself excited
to attend tonight, if for no other reason than to get her mind off Clay. She knew
Clay wouldn’t be there. It was a dining and dancing night and she knew he didn’t dance.
Nor did he ever attend this ball. Like her, he always sent a nice fat contribution
and skipped the festivities.

She intended to drink some wine, schmooze some politicians and bigwigs in the industry.
Maybe a few people would take pity and dance with her. She’d have fun.

And not think about men or love or fear or complications.

The ballroom was packed when they got there. Tish disappeared almost immediately,
having spotted some friends and rushing off to greet them.

Traitor.

Ella grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and decided to wander the
room, see who she knew, then figure out where they were seated, since there seemed
to be place cards with everyone’s names on them. She greeted a few of her fellow contractors
and their wives, people she’d known for years. Some she hadn’t seen in a while—not
since James had died. So of course she had to stop and answer the obligatory “How
are you doing?” questions. She understood people cared, that they hadn’t seen her
in a long time
and wanted to know how she was getting on with her life and her work. Maybe she should
stop hiding out so much and attend more social functions in the future. Then she could
go back to being thought of as a normal person instead of James’s widow.

The ballroom was a glittering mass of tuxes and beautiful gowns. Ella could find a
chair and spend the entire evening gawking at the fashion. And the jewelry…Dear God,
some of these women definitely had money. Or their husbands did. She felt out of her
element adorned only in her mother’s pearl earrings, but Tish had told her the dress
spoke for itself, that Ella was beautiful and she needed nothing else. Tish had insisted
they get their hair done for the occasion, so she sported some kind of updo with a
few tendrils swept against her face. So not her, but whatever. She supposed it was
okay to play dress up every now and then. She still felt like a sham when she saw
the glittering diamonds and expensive furs and even the china laid out on the starched
linen tables. Wow.

But she really loved the dress and the fancy shoes, so she decided she was going to
enjoy herself tonight and not care what anyone thought. Besides, she was being hypercritical.
No one had batted an eyelash the wrong way at her.

It sure would have been a lot easier to send a check, though. She could be home in
her pajamas right now watching television and eating something cooked in the microwave,
which would be much more comfortable than this lung-squeezing dress.

And where the hell was Tish?

She wound her way through the crowd, examining each table for her name, not yet finding
it. She spotted a familiar group, some of the contractors she worked with regularly.
Maybe she would be sitting with them. As she approached, the crowd thinned and she
caught sight of a tall, dark-haired man with broad shoulders who looked very familiar
from behind.

But it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t come to this. Would he?

He turned, and her breath caught.

Clay. Clay in a tux. Clay looking drop-dead gorgeous in black
and white. Her legs began to shake and she didn’t think she could take another step.
She reached for the chairback next to her and held on for support.

She hadn’t expected this, wasn’t ready to see him yet. Ever.

What was he doing here? And how dared he look so damn good?

He walked—no, stalked toward her.

“Ella. What are you doing here?”

He looked angry to see her. Why would he be angry? She should be angry.

“I was about to ask you the same question. Why are you here?”

He scanned the room. “There are people here I need to see.”

“Same people I need to see, I imagine. That’s why I’m here. And Tish made me come.”

He narrowed his gaze as he searched the room. “Uh-huh. Where is Tish?”

“No clue. She dumped me as soon as we got here.”

“How convenient.” He returned his gaze to her, scanning her from toe to head as he
had done in Hawaii. She flushed, the cool room suddenly growing warmer. “You look…beautiful.”

“Thank you. You look pretty hot in that tux.”

His lips lifted. “Thanks. It’s uncomfortable as hell.”

“So is this dress.”

“It looks like someone sewed you into it. Turn around.”

She did. She didn’t know why, but she did.

“Christ. Is that a…corset?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck me,” he said in a harsh whisper.

She’d love to. Dammit, no, she wouldn’t. They were over. There was nothing between
them.

Oh, right. Sure they were. So why had the entire room and her body gone up in flames
the second she laid eyes on him?

Chemistry. Physical attraction. She refused to deny that portion of it any longer.
Why should she? She’d had ample evidence of it
in Hawaii. But that was all it was. It wasn’t love. She wouldn’t love him.

Couldn’t.

“Well, we’re here. Together,” he finally said.

“Yes.”

“How have you been since we got back?”

“Busy.”

“Ditto. You bidding on the downtown parking garage?”

“Yes.”

“We will, too. I also heard there’s going to be a new hotel going up on Seventh Street.”

“I heard about that, too. Haven’t seen any specs yet.”

She hated that they’d been reduced to one-liners about business, that the ease they’d
shared with each other that week had dissolved into basic business discussions.

That had been her wish, hadn’t it? That they keep things business only?

But this was different. Before, they had been comfortable with each other.

They were seated at the same table together. Tish—the traitor—finally made her appearance
and gave her a knowing smile throughout dinner. Ella felt trapped between Clay and
Tish. She was mad at Tish, felt set up, and had nothing to say to Clay, who seemed
content to spend his time talking to one of the city councilmen seated at their table.
When dinner was over, she nearly leaped from her chair.

“Where are you going?” Tish asked.

The entire table looked at her.

She had no idea where she was going.

“Ladies’ room,” she finally managed, making a beeline out of the ballroom.

She washed her hands and took the opportunity to stare at her reflection in the opulent
oversized mirror in the seating area of the restroom. Her face was flushed, pink circles
dotting her cheeks. Her entire body was hot. Maybe she was coming down with something.

Yeah…a case of Clay. Of having to sit next to him and not touch him, not kiss him,
not laugh with him, not be able to enjoy the easy conversation they’d always had with
each other.

Dammit, she missed him. She wanted him back. And she wasn’t going to be able to have
him.

She sat on one of the chairs and stared at herself in the mirror.

Why couldn’t she have him? Why did she have to be so afraid? Everyone died. Not everyone
died young. Clay was strong, healthy.

She thought James had been healthy, too.

She laid her head in her hands, fighting back the ache, the memories, the fear.

“Honey, you can’t spend the night in here hiding.”

Her head snapped up. Tish.

“I’m not hiding.”

“Yes, you are. And you have to stop.” Tish crouched down and laid her hand over Ella’s.
“James is gone. You’re still here. You have to start living again.”

“I have been. I’ve built our company up. I’ve gotten up every day and worked day and
night. I haven’t laid around and felt sorry for myself once.”

“I know. But that’s work. That’s distraction. That’s not living. You have a chance
to love someone and you’re putting up any barrier you can to keep it from happening.”

She started to argue, wanted to put the blame on Clay, but she knew it would be a
lie. “You’re right.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Just the thought of going out there and facing him, of telling him how she felt, made
her stomach clench, made her feel sick. But she had to try. “I don’t really know,
Tish. I guess not hiding in the bathroom would be a good start.”

The tables were cleared and the room darkened by the time she had fixed her lipstick
and made her way back to the ballroom. The band was playing and couples twirled together
out on the sizeable dance floor. She wound her way around people milling about. Her
table was empty. Everyone must be involved in conversation or dancing. She laid
her bag on the table and stared out at the couples on the floor, the overhead lights
shining down on them.

“Dance with me.”

She pivoted and arched her brow at Clay.

“You don’t dance.”

“I do now.” He held out his hand.

This she had to see. She slipped her hand in his and he led her to the floor. Something
slow was playing, a romantic song that filled her heart with longing, especially when
Clay pulled her close, laid his palm against her back and started moving her to the
strains of the music.

It didn’t take her long to realize he’d lied to her.

“You can dance.”

He shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

“You lied.”

“It’s not my favorite thing to do. So I just say that I can’t.”

“And you’re making the ultimate sacrifice for me because…?”