Illicit: A Forbidden Romance (18 page)

J
ake’s eyebrows
drew together as he looked at me, his mouth falling open. He looked different now, a dark brown beard covering the lower half of his handsome face. He wore a button-down shirt with its sleeves rolled up and dark jeans, looking sexier than anyone had any right to be.

“Joss?”

I looked up and realized Emerson had opened my door. “Come on. Come meet the craftsman who makes the furniture you love,” he said, holding out a hand.

I stepped out of the car, brushing my fingers through my hair. Jake never took his eyes off me, quietly taking me in as I approached, no doubt taking stock of what had changed and what was the same.

I held out my hand and, surprising even myself, I said, “Nice to meet you.”

He looked confused for a second then shook my hand. “Hi,” he said in a soft rasp. He blinked a few times, coming back to his senses. “So your boyfriend—”

“Fiancé, actually,” Emerson said, slinging an arm over my shoulder.

I spied a muscle in Jake’s jaw tic. “My mistake. He says he’d like to commission a bed.”

Emerson squeezed my shoulders. “As a wedding present for my beautiful bride.” Oblivious to Jake’s discomfort, he continued, “A king, don’t you think, sweetheart? Nice and big so the kids can snuggle up with us on Sunday morning.”

Jake’s face darkened. “Kids?”

“No,” I said quickly. “We don’t have any.”

Emerson laughed. “Sorry. Projecting too far into the future.”

Jake tried to keep a poker face, but I could see the storm brewing in his eyes.

“Would you have time to discuss this project?” Emerson asked.

Jake looked at his watch then up at me. “Sure. Come to my office,” he said and held the door open. As I passed, I felt his hand brush against my arm and I jerked back like I’d been electrocuted. Jake only snickered.

The store was completely different now. Whereas it once retained the rough garage interior, now the cement floors had been stained a dark color, the walls and ceilings done in exposed brick. The furniture, once haphazardly placed, were now grouped together in room scenes.

“It looks amazing in here,” I said and caught the look of surprise on Jake’s face.

“Thank you,” he said curtly.

We entered his office, a spacious area with an urban rustic feel.

“Please,” he said, motioning to the two leather armchairs in front of a massive wood and metal desk.

Emerson and I sat down, while Jake grabbed a sketchbook, similar to the one I had in my possession. He flipped to a blank page and clicked his pen. “What kind of bed were you looking for?”

I wanted him to look at me but his gaze was fixed firmly on Emerson. I said, “We weren’t really looking for a b—”

“I’d like something rustic modern, exactly your style here,” Emerson interrupted, running his hand along Jake’s desk.

“And you?”

My stomach flip-flopped when I looked up and found Jake raising an eyebrow at me. Three years apart and one look from him still reduces me to mush.

Emerson tapped my arm. “Joss?”

“I’m not sure. Whichever you like, I guess,” I said with a shrug, dragging my eyes away from Jake, stopping at the bookshelves taking up one side of the room. My eyes flew to Jake and I bit my lips together to keep from asking how he managed to get a hold of it when I’d sold it three years prior.

Jake gave only the smallest shake of the head before turning back to Emerson as the two continued to discuss the design of the bed. I sat wordlessly, trying but failing to calm my nerves. How could I when only a desk separated me from the man who had haunted my dreams for so long?

After the two came up with a design, Jake stood up.

“Thank you for your time,” Emerson said, shaking Jake’s hand. “How long do you think it will take to build?”

The skin between Jake’s eyebrows wrinkled as he looked down at the sketch.

“This won’t work,” I blurted out, rising to my feet. I turned to Emerson. “There’s no way he’d be willing to drive a king-sized bed all the way to Houston.”

Jake’s eyes flicked up to mine, his blue gaze boring into my brain. “You’d be surprised how far I’d be willing to go.” When he blinked, the connection broke and his expression once again shuttered. “I do have the means to ship furniture all over the country.”

Emerson smiled at me. “See? The man has it all worked out.”

Jake folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow, looking both sexy and intimidating at once. “It’s very nice to meet you, Emerson. Jocelyn.”

I said nothing. I only flashed him one last meaningful look before leaving.

I
tossed
and turned in bed that night, unable to get the image of Jake’s glare out of my mind. I didn’t blame him for being angry. Hell, I’d showed up at his place of business—however unintentionally—with a fiancé. He had every right to be pissed.

But I had come back to Florida to get answers and I was determined to get them.

After Emerson took his melatonin pill and went to sleep, I got dressed and called down to valet. Ten minutes later, I was on my way to Hollywood, Florida.

It was nearly midnight by the time I parked in the driveway of Jake’s house. I stood at his doorstep for an inordinately long amount of time, wondering if I was doing the right thing, if I’d even be welcome. Would he even open the door to the stranger I’d become?

My question was answered a moment later when the swung open and Jake stood at the door shirtless and barefoot, holding a bottle of beer. He didn’t let me in immediately. He simply set one arm on the doorframe and stared at me through hooded eyes. “What are you doing here so late?” he asked, taking a casual sip of his beer.

“Can I come in?” I asked, trying to pretend his nearness, his very scent, didn’t do things to my insides. It was infuriating that, after all this time, he still had that effect on me.

“Where is
he
?” he asked, motioning to the car behind me.

“He’s back at the hotel.”

He reached out and took hold of my left hand, lifting it up to the light. “Beautiful ring, Joss. Huge rock. Well done.”

I yanked my hand back. “Are you going to let me in or not?”

He didn’t say a thing, acting as though he had no intention of letting me in. After a long, tense moment, he finally stepped aside.

“Your place looks… different.” All around the room were brown boxes, areas that normally held furniture now bare.

“That happens. Things change in three or so years.”

I spun around to him, my anger simmering to the surface, the question that had been tormenting me for over three years finally boiling over. “Why didn’t you say goodbye?” I swallowed, fighting to keep my voice from wavering. “I called but you never answered. And, believe me, I waited. Even at the airport I held back, hoping you’d run in at the last minute. But you never did.”

His eyes flashed and jaw hardened. “I was trying to do the right thing.”

“By making me think it was over?”

“By making it easier for you to leave.”

Tears stung my eyes at the memory of the day I’d left, my entire heart breaking as I’d looked around one last time before boarding the plane. “Well you failed. Miserably.”

His jaw clenched as he blinked down at me. It was wrong but part of me wanted him to just apologize and kiss me, sure that one gesture had the power to erase the heartache that had accumulated all these years.

“So you stayed away for three years,” he began, his voice raw with emotion. “And then show up at my place of business with a fiancé and a rock the size of my fist?”

I stepped away, unable to stand the heat of his anger any longer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come to your store. Emers—”

“Don’t you fucking say his name to me,” he bit out.

I lifted my chin. “Stop acting like you have any claim to me. Because you don’t.”

“Oh, I don’t?” He slammed the beer down and closed the distance between us again. His arm snaked around my waist, keeping me from taking another step. “Then what the hell are you doing here?”

“I…” I blinked up at him, finding it hard to breathe. “I needed to talk to you.”

“You needed to see me,” he said in a low, raspy voice that I felt down my spine. “You couldn’t stay away. You never could.”

“I managed to stay away for three years, didn’t I?”

The fire in his eyes raged. He lowered his head until our noses were only inches apart. “If you think I’m making a bed for you and another man, you have lost your fucking mind,” he growled.

The fight in me died. “I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.” I tried to step away but he tightened his hold on me.

“It’s not over between us, Joss,” he said in a low rumble that I felt in my bones. His blue eyes flew all over my face, the anger gone, only now the emotion that replaced it was equally daunting. “Tell me, Joss: Have you found your passion?”

“I…” I considered telling him about the novel but had no wind left in my lungs to speak. “Yes,” I managed to say.

He said nothing, only blinked down at me.

“And your passion… it looks like you’re doing really well,” I said to ease the tension.

“I am. I’m moving to Boston to open another store.”

“When?”

His eyes flicked around the room. “Soon.”

“Is that why you’re not coming to the wedding?”

“You know why I’m not coming.”

I couldn’t stand the expression on his face, so I changed the subject. “How did you get my bookshelf?”

“A client contacted me, telling me they’d seen one of my pieces listed on Craigslist like some trash piece of furniture,” he said through stiff lips.

“It broke my heart to have to sell it, but I couldn’t take it to Texas with me.” I added in a whisper, “Believe me, I wanted to.”

“It’s yours again, if you want it.”

I looked at him for a long time, trying to read the expression there. “Just the bookcase?”

“Joss…” He leaned closer until his lips touched the shell of my ear. “You know exactly what I’m offering.”

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the thought that less than an inch separated us at that moment. There was no mistaking his intention and I’d be a freaking liar if I said I didn’t want it as well. Even now, every particle in my body stood on end, reaching out to him.

I couldn’t not touch him anymore. I reached up and pressed my hand on his bare chest, feeling the rapid thumping of his heart. He took another step closer and crushed our bodies together, his heat searing me inside and out.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, pressing his hard length against my stomach. “That’s three years of frustration and want.”

“I feel it.” And, led by my base instinct, I slid my hand from his chest down to his crotch, curling my fingers around his erection. “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed of wrapping my lips around you, hearing you groan when I take you in my mouth…”

His lips fell open. And just when I thought he’d kiss me, he loosened his hold around my waist and took a step back. “No. We’re not doing this again.”

“But…” I couldn’t breathe. Everything in me cried out for him.

“If you want me, you have me.” He swallowed hard. “But I’m not sharing you with anyone. Not anymore.”

I shook my head, fisting my hands at my sides to keep from reaching out for him. “Forget about everyone else right now. It’s just you and me.”

“We tried that once, remember?” he asked with a hard edge to his voice. “This time I want you without strings or conditions. No more lying or hiding.”

I fought to catch my breath. “Was that an ultimatum?”

“Take it how you want it. If you say no again, I’m done. I’m moving on. I’ve had enough of this… this…” He clawed at his chest. “This torture.”

Tears blurred my vision. I couldn’t find the words to convey how sorry I was for putting him through the agony. “But you’re moving,” was all I could say.

He didn’t hesitate. “So come with me.”

E
merson was still asleep
when I tiptoed into the hotel room at almost three in the morning. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched him sleep, this wonderful man who was counting on me to close the book on my past.

I had intended to do just that, only the visit with Jake had thrown me back into the story, and again I found myself having to choose between two people I loved. Jake had always been the wrong choice, the person I should never have reached for. And yet he was the only person I could not let go.

Filled with a need to express my thoughts, I retrieved my laptop and took it to the office at the other side of the suite. I opened up an email and began to compose a letter.

M
y fingers paused
, hovering over the keys. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what next to say. With a groan, I dropped my head on the desk while my heart and my head battled it out, fighting for my happiness and sanity.

Finally I shut the computer and climbed into bed, curling up inside Emerson’s arms. Only when he stirred and kissed my hair did my warring sides call a ceasefire. At least for the time being.

“
S
o I was thinking
, we could go drive down to the Keys today,” Emerson said during brunch. “I’d love nothing more than to kiss you at the southernmost point of the United States.”

“Sounds good.” I lifted the coffee mug up to my lips, my brain still turning, twisting, trying to figure out what to do.

“Or perhaps see that coral castle in Homestead?”

“How about you go to the castle and I’ll catch up with you this afternoon? I need to take care of something first.”

He blinked at me behind those glasses, trying to assess my mood. “What is it?”

“Just an errand.”

He didn’t believe me, that much was clear, but I could see the struggle going on behind his carefully expressionless facade. Despite it all, Emerson still wanted to give me the benefit of the doubt. “Sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“Yeah. I think I need to do this alone.” I reached across the table and patted his hand, not knowing how to alleviate his worries when I myself didn’t know how things would work out. “But hey, maybe we can go watch a Miami Heat game tonight? I think they’re playing the Cavaliers.”

He didn’t reply for a long time. Finally, he shook his head. “No. They’re playing the Celtics.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll go ahead and buy the tickets,” he said, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “You go do what you have to do and meet me back at the hotel.”

I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re too good to me,” I said, wondering if he understood my meaning, fearing one day he’d finally agree.

I
drove back
up to Hollywood an hour later, recalling the events of last night when Jake had asked me to come to Boston with him.

“I don’t know,” I’d told him. “I can’t just leave Emerson like that.”

“It’s simple: You either go back to your life in Texas, knowing exactly what awaits you, or you could come with me to Boston and start over.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” I’d said.

He’d held his palm up to my cheek, shaking his head. “No, Joss. It’s not.”

My insides began to tremble the moment I drove into Rochester Furniture’s parking lot, the nerves increasing, becoming an all out quake when I got out of the car and pushed the front doors open.

At the entrance, I scanned the showroom teeming with salespeople and customers. My heart twitched when, at the back of the store, I caught sight of a tall man with dark hair and warm blue eyes.

It was then I came to a crushing realization: Jake was the one. It had been him all along. I’d been fooling myself these past few years thinking I could be happy with anyone else. For the first time in a long time, I knew exactly what I wanted.

With tear-blurred eyes I watched him, willing him to turn around and see me.

I couldn’t wait anymore. I took a step forward… and froze as a beautiful woman approached him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek, greeting her with intimate familiarity. I stood, transfixed, as he leaned into her, grinning as he told her something that made her laugh.

“Joss, is that you?”

I turned and found a familiar face smiling down at me. “Tristan,” I said in surprise.

He bent down and air-kissed my cheek. “I thought you’d moved to Texas?”

“I did.”

He frowned. “Are you back then?”

“No. I’m just visiting.”

His eyes roamed all over me, catching on the ring on my finger. “Congrats,” he said, motioning to my left hand.

“Thank you.”

He followed my gaze and saw Jake and the woman still engaged in flirtatious conversation. “That’s Migdalia,” he said.

Migdalia, with the curly blonde hair and the sunny smile, who was familiar enough to touch his beard and rub her palm along his jaw. “She’s pretty,” I said, feeling the hope in me start to drain.

Tristan nodded. “And a really cool person too.”

“How long?” I whispered, trying not to sound crushed. If Tristan knew I was jealous, who knew what he’d do.

“How long what?”

“Have they been together?”

Tristan glanced back towards the couple before turning back to me with eyebrows knotted. I held my breath, hoping he’d say they were just friends, but he dashed my hopes when he said, “A long time now.”

“He never even told me,” I said under my breath.

“Maybe he didn’t want to hurt you.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to keep my disappointment from spilling over onto my cheeks. “Is he happy?”

“Certainly looks it.”

I turned away, my heart breaking in a million pieces. “Can you just tell him I came by?” I asked, taking a deep, fortifying breath.

“You’re not going to talk to him?” he asked.

“No. I have to get going.” I reached into my purse and pulled out a leather sketchbook. “And could you give this to him for me?”

“Sure.” He flipped through the first few pages. “Isn’t this the sketchbook he lost? He’s been looking all over for this.”

“He left it at the house when he moved out.” I felt a clawing in my stomach at the idea of giving back this thing that had become a part of my life. I’d written many letters in there, things that I wanted to say over the years but couldn’t. And now that it was going back to its original owner, I felt bereft, like I’d lost my last line of communication with Jake. “It’s probably time I gave it back.”

“Sure.” Tristan bent down and hugged me. “Good to see you again”

“You too.”

“Joss,” Tristan said.

“Yes?”

He flashed me a sad sort of smile. “Good luck. You know, with the wedding and everything.”

“Thank you.”

I sat in the car for a long time, staring at the store through tear-blurred eyes. A part of me hoped for Jake to see me, to come out and tell me that it was all a misunderstanding. But the better part of me knew the right thing to do was give Jake his shot at a good life, one that wasn’t complicated by me. I owed him that, at least.

With an aching heart, I started the car and drove away.

W
hen I got back
to the hotel, I found our luggages packed and ready in the foyer of the suite.

“Hello?” I called out. I walked around until I found Emerson in the office area with a laptop on the desk in front of him.
My
laptop.

“What are you doing?” I asked, fighting the urge to run over and slam my computer shut.

He looked up, a grave expression on his face. He took off his glasses and set them on the desk. “I was going online to buy basketball tickets but I found this instead.” He turned the laptop around and showed me the email on the screen.

I walked over and shut it. “What are you doing looking through my things?”

“That Jake is the same one from Rochester Furniture, isn’t it?” he asked in a carefully even voice. When I didn’t answer, he said, “And please don’t insult my intelligence. I saw the way you looked at him. At the time I thought maybe you were just seeing an attractive man but now that I’ve seen the email and I see you standing there trying to come up with an excuse, I realize it’s not just a coincidence.”

I swallowed, my heart racing. “Yes. That’s him.”

“And I am the idiot who drove you right back to him.”

I took a step forward. “I went to see him today,” I said, suddenly filled with the need to confess.

“You don’t have to explain anything.” He pushed away from the desk, rising to his feet. “I just want to know how you wanted to finish that letter. Are you leaving me for him?”

I shook my head, hot tears sliding down my cheeks. The vision of Jake with the other woman bore into my mind, a painful reminder that Jake was my past. It was time to leave him there.

“No,” I whispered.