Dirty Secrets (5 page)

She shook her head, sending her blond hair swinging across her jawline. “Self-help books aren’t for everyone, Christopher. Some people they do help. Others manage via different avenues. You sound like you have a wonderful natural support network, with your daughter and all your students. Go with that. Do what makes you happy.”

He stilled, realizing she meant her words one way, but taking them another. At this moment he couldn’t think of anything that would make him happier than exploring this second chance she’d given them both. “I will.” He pushed back from the table. “Now, how do you feel about a walk on the beach to work off all that fried shrimp?”

“I’m wearing high heels,” she said, her expression doubtful.

He stood up, looked down into her eyes. “Take them off.” He’d meant it to be a teasing command, but his voice emerged raw and husky.

She swallowed hard and again his body responded to the sight of her. To the very thought of her. “I’m . . .” She faltered, her eyes wide. She was nervous, he realized, and the knowledge should have been sobering, but instead it thrilled. “I’ve got stockings.”

“Take them off, too.”

She hesitated for a full minute, then stood up. “All right. Let’s take a walk.”

* * *

Saturday, February 27, 8:30 p.m.

Walker had met a woman. He’d watched him emerge from his house on the canal earlier this evening, all dressed up in a suit and looking ready to go to church. He’d expected him to meet a man. The PI that had been asking about Walker had been male. But instead Walker had met a woman he didn’t recognize at a restaurant. He’d taken a table for one, ordered dinner, and watched them, at the wrong angle to clearly see her face and too far away to hear what they were saying. Whatever it was, it was serious. A paper was exchanged, which Walker folded and slipped in his coat pocket. There had been some light conversation, but mostly heavily serious dialogue. Then they’d abruptly left without waiting for the check, Walker leaving cash on the table.

He got up and followed them, only to be stopped by an even voice by the front door.

“Did you forget something, sir? Perhaps your check?”

He gut tightened as he turned, Walker and the woman disappearing from his view.
Dammit. Dammit to hell.
“I’m sorry. I thought I saw someone I knew and I got so carried away I forgot to pay the bill.” He pulled out a few bills, pressed them in the waiter’s hand and burst into the parking lot. But they were gone and he panicked.

He found Walker’s car still in the parking lot and sighed in relief. He waited for a few minutes, but when they didn’t come back to the car he assumed they’d gone down to the beach. He scanned the sand but in the dark, all the strolling couples looked the same. He wasn’t sure which way they’d walked and he didn’t want to pick the wrong direction. This woman could just be a date, he thought. But Walker didn’t date. Everybody knew that. And she’d given him a paper, days after a private detective was poking around. It was too much coincidence to be safe. He touched his throat, still raw from the rope. He needed to file a report by tomorrow. He needed the woman’s name before then. He certainly didn’t want to be late. Or wrong.

He’d stay here and wait for Walker to come back to his car.

* * *

Saturday, February 27, 9:30 p.m.

“This will work,” Emma said, pointing at a smooth stretch of sand just beyond a four-foot-high dune. “That dune will block some of that cool wind.” She sat down, tucking her bare feet under her skirt, and looked up at him. “Well, are you going to sit or not?”

Christopher frowned down at her. “Your dress will be ruined.”

They’d walked an hour down the beach, reminiscing, chatting easily about everything under the sun. Or moon, as it were. It was amazing how quickly they’d returned to the camaraderie they’d shared in their high school days. But beneath the conversation ran a current of tension, an awareness that sensitized her skin, making her anticipate the casual brush of his hand against hers as they walked. Making her wonder if he’d hold her hand again, as he’d done in the restaurant. He didn’t and finally Emma took the initiative, reaching up to grab his hand and pull him down beside her.

“Stop worrying about my dress, Christopher, and relax.” She fixed her eyes on the water as he settled on the sand, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “It’s a beautiful evening and I want to enjoy watching the water a little longer.”

His shoulder brushed her upper arm, sending a shiver through her body, and he frowned again. “Are you cold? We should go back before you catch pneumonia.”

Emma laughed. “Christopher, it was twenty-five and snowing when I left Cincinnati this morning. This is like a tropical paradise in comparison.” But he was already shrugging out of his suit coat and wrapping it around her. Another shiver shook her as his hands lingered on her shoulders a few beats of her heart longer than necessary.

Her deep breath drew in his scent from his coat, warm and citrusy. Different from Will’s. She felt a small pang of guilt at the thought, but rationally knew Will wouldn’t want that. He’d have been the first to want her to go on with her life. He’d have been furious with the way she’d locked herself away for a year. Well, she wasn’t locked away any longer. Be it Christopher or someone else in the future, her life had to go on.

Her sigh was nearly lost on the breeze. “I never dreamed I’d end up like this, Christopher.”

“Which part, Em? Your husband dying, you becoming rich and famous, or ending up here with me after all these years?”

She studied his profile, the hard line of his jaw. “All of the above, I guess.”

He looked down and her breath caught in her throat at the expression in his vivid blue eyes. So intense. Compelling. “Would you have changed it if you could?”

She said nothing for a moment, just looked into his eyes. Then shook her head, soberly. “No. I might have missed the pain, but I would have missed the dance.” The song to which they’d danced rumbled through her mind even as she said the words. Garth Brooks’s “The Dance,” haunting and so very appropriate to her life. Then and now.

His eyes flashed. “You remembered.”

One corner of her mouth lifted. “How could I ever forget? It was my first dance, Christopher. My first prom. My first date. I was such a nerd then. I thought you’d asked me out of a combination of pity, friendship and pragmatism.”

His jaw tightened. “For a very smart girl, that was very dumb.”

“Probably,” she said lightly and turned back to the water, unable to endure another second of his intense stare.
You’re just vulnerable,
she told herself,
and needy. Back off, Em
. He crooked his finger under her chin and pulled until she looked up. And once again she caught her breath. His eyes . . . smoldered. There was no other word for it.

“Emma, I felt a hell of a lot of things for you then, but pity was never among them.”

She stared up at him, every word in her mind . . . gone. Vaporized like mist in sunlight. Then even that thought was gone as he slowly threaded his fingers through her hair, cupping the side of her head, lifting her face as he lowered his.

And he kissed her.

And oh, it was good. His lips were warm and hard and soft all at the same time. Her heart thundered until all she could hear was the blood rushing in her head, all she could feel was the yearning of her own body, the tightening of her nipples, the sweet tug of desire pooling between her clenched thighs. His coat fell to the sand as she lifted her hands to his face, her palms bracketing his jaws, her thumbs rasping gently against the stubble on his cheeks.

And he groaned.

Setting her tingling body on fire. She opened her mouth, seeking, allowing him entry. His tongue found hers and her hands found their way around his neck. A few seconds later he was pushing her to her back, any residual worries about sand on her dress completely forgotten. His mouth was ravenous, eating at hers like a starving man. Like he’d never get enough.

And his hand . . .

God, his hand was on her breast. And it felt so good. His thumb pressed against her nipple, flicking it through the fabric of her dress, and she whimpered.

He lifted his head, breathing like he’d run a marathon. His eyes burned. “I wanted you then, Emma,” he gritted. “Every damn day. God help me, I want you now.” His lips dropped to her throat. Moved lower to her breast. Then his mouth closed over her breast and she moaned. Clasped his head in her shaking hands and held him close while he ravaged, sucking until she thought she’d come, right there on the beach.

She tried to speak, but no words would come. She, a woman who made her living speaking, could not form a single syllable.
Emma, stop this. Get a hold of yourself.

She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to get a hold of herself more than she’d ever not wanted to do anything in her life. But because she didn’t, she forced herself to speak. “Christopher, wait. Please.” She tugged at his head. “Stop.”

He went stiff, then still. Lifted his head and met her eyes. “I don’t want to apologize,” he said, his voice hoarse and rough, sending another shiver of electric desire through her body. She was cold without him pressed against her. She wanted to be warm again. She wanted him.

“I don’t want you to apologize. I just think I’m not quite ready for this.”

He swallowed hard. “Your body thinks otherwise.”

“My body hasn’t had sex in a year,” she shot back, then closed her eyes on a soft groan. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” He didn’t move and she finally opened her eyes to see him staring down at her, not one whit of his intensity abated.

“Mine hasn’t had any in three,” he said quietly. “But that has nothing to do with this. I’ve always wanted you, Emma. Always. And now, you walk back into my life and I have to believe it’s for a reason. I’ve waited for you for more than seventeen years. I can wait a little longer. But be advised, Emma. I will have you.” She shuddered violently, again speechless under his gaze, under the mesmerizing timbre of his voice. “I will have you and your body will know you’re mine.” Her hips lifted of their own volition and he smiled, a tiny little smile of male triumph that did nothing to cool her down. “Your body already knows it. I can wait for your heart to catch up.”

She was afraid her heart wasn’t too far behind. Still she cleared her throat. “You . . . you could be right. You probably are right.”

He lifted a brow.

“Okay, Christopher, you’re right,” she said with no small irritation. “But for now . . . I want to slow it down. When and if we do . . .”

“Make love,” he purred and her insides felt like they were turning inside out.

“When and if—”

“When, Emma. Not if.”

She sighed. “Christopher.” Then he grinned and made her laugh before she sobered again. “
If
we make love I want it to be for the right reason,” she said softly. “Because it’s the right time, not because we’re two people trying to recapture the past.”

“Is that what you think?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. But regardless, Christopher, to risk sounding trite, I’m not that kind of girl.”

He sat up at that and pulled her so she sat next to him. “I know you’re not. You never were. That’s one of the things I loved about you then, Emma.” He shoved his fingers through his short hair. “I should really apologize. But I still don’t want to.”

“Then don’t. I feel . . . incredibly flattered.”

“You should,” he said grumpily. “I’ve waited for you more than half my life.”

“You didn’t wait,” she pointed out. “You got married, too.”

A frown shadowed his eyes. “Not well.”

“I’m sorry, Christopher. I wish your marriage could have been like mine.”

He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “It takes two to tango. I made mistakes, too. I worked a lot early on. We were college kids up in Michigan and I was working two part-time jobs and going to school at the same time. Then when Megan was born I had just started grad school, still working two part-time jobs.”

“Then after?”

He grimaced. “I worked for a chemical company for a few years, but I hated it. Mona was moving up the ladder in her company and they offered her a promotion. She could choose one of three cities and our best friend from college had already moved down here so we picked St. Pete. My friend was a physics professor at the University and loved it, and I missed academia. I got a position as an assistant professor. I could finally slow down and be a father to Megan. That was seven years ago.”

“And your wife?”

He stared out at the water, his jaw tightening. “Mona got busier and busier with her career. Started traveling around the world and she’d be gone for weeks at a time.”

“Weeks? That must have been hard on your daughter. And you.”

His laugh was harsh. “You could say that. Megan would cry at night, missing her. When Mona would come home, she’d be more and more distant. One day, she said her company wanted her to take a job in South America and she’d accepted it.”

“Without discussing it with you?” Emma asked, startled. “Will never would—” She broke it off abruptly. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”

“What, that your husband never would have made a major life decision without discussing it with you? Don’t be sorry. I think that’s how normal couples do things. I’m not sure Mona and I ever were normal. Anyway, I didn’t want to uproot Megan, or myself, if I’m honest. We fought about it and she said I was a selfish bastard and I could go with her or she’d leave us. The next time I saw Mona she was sitting on the other side of the table in the divorce attorney’s office.”

“And Megan?”

“She was devastated. Mostly because Mona never even contested my sole custody petition.”

“Poor little girl,” Emma murmured. “She must have felt so rejected.”

“She
was
rejected,” Christopher said bitterly. “I’d already accepted that things were coming to that, but Megan was just a little girl. It broke my heart to see her holding out hope that her mother would actually want her. Mona sees her whenever she comes back to the States on a business trip, but only when it’s convenient. Megan hasn’t seen her mother in almost a year.”