Intimate (6 page)

But the man
turned and left after a few words and another smile for Marissa. So, despite the
crude nature of his behavior, Caleb’s efforts had evoked the intended response.

With the
unwanted presence finally gone, he took the seat that had always been his. His
anger had diminished, his brief embarrassment had vanished, and only
gratification remained.

“What the hell
is your problem?” Marissa demanded.

He scowled,
losing sight of his victory as the irrational anger returned. “The bastard was coming
onto you.”

She looked at
him like he was crazy. “I know that. Who cares?”

“Have you
suddenly changed your mind about sex but not bothered to inform me?”

“No. I haven’t
changed my mind.” Her cheeks were even redder than they’d been earlier, blazing
against her fair skin.

Her anger
enraged him even more—at the inexplicable fact that she was questioning his
behavior when he’d only been trying to help her. “Then I would think you’d be
glad I got rid of him for you. I assume you haven’t become that sort of tease,
leading a man on with no intention of following through with it.”

He pressed his
lips together as soon as he finished the sentence. Wished he could suck back
the uncalculated words.

She stifled a
throaty burst of fury and managed to say in a voice that was almost controlled,
“You have no right to talk to me that way. I don’t know what your problem is
today, but I’m not going to put up with that. Not from you or anyone else.”

Caleb swallowed
hard. Tried to think reasonably. He was angry with the bastard and with
himself. Not with Marissa. So he forced himself to say, “You’re right. I’m
sorry for saying that. But I was really only trying to help you.”

“I don’t need
you storming in like an uncouth cowboy protecting the last virgin in the
territory.”

Despite his obsessive
intensity, Caleb actually had a fairly well-developed sense of humor.

His mouth
quirked involuntarily at her clever simile, and he saw a responding gleam of
humor ignite in her eyes. She was still too mad at him to follow up on it, but
the sight of her brief flash of amusement softened his voice as he responded,
“Maybe I overreacted, but it’s been a long time since sex has been part of your
life. You might not understand what drives a man. Just because you’re not
thinking about sex doesn’t mean that men are going to back off.”

Apparently—despite
the strange tenderness warming his voice—this was the wrong thing to say. “Damn
it, Caleb. You’re treating me like I’m some naïve girl who doesn’t know a penis
from a candlestick. I made a conscious decision not to have sex. It wasn’t
based on naiveté. Having sex doesn’t make people more mature, or more
knowledgeable, or more in control of their surroundings—and I’ll defy anyone
who says it does. I haven’t spent the last five years in a convent or a
deserted island. I am perfectly capable of realizing when a man is hitting on
me. I can tell when he wants to get me into bed.”

She was right, for
the most part, but he hoped she was wrong about one thing. Hoped she didn’t
know that for the last two weeks
he’d
been dreaming of getting her into
bed.

“I was just
trying to help.”

“No, you
weren’t. It was some macho pissing contest. I don’t know what’s gotten into you
lately, but I’m really getting sick of it.”

He was getting
sick of it too. Even though he’d suppressed it, Caleb’s lust was already
tainting their friendship. He couldn’t let this continue. “You’re right. I’m
sorry. Just forget it.”

The apology
didn’t sound quite as sincere as he’d intended, since he was still bristling
over the way that bastard had been slathering over Marissa. And how she didn’t
appreciate his coming to her rescue.

She seemed to
recognize his continued annoyance because her face didn’t soften.

That sat in
silence for a while, except for a brief interruption when their server came
over to take their orders. Caleb’s jaw was clenched, and Marissa’s chin was
still sticking out. Every once in a while their eyes would meet and they’d
trade resentful glares.

Both of them
were hopelessly stubborn, which raised a real question about who would cave
first.

Their meals
came, and Marissa starting picking at her salad. Caleb ate several bites
without even tasting what he was swallowing.

Then their
gazes met once more, and this time they didn’t immediately look away. He saw
another brief flash of humor in Marissa’s eyes—the force of irony she could
never escape—and then he saw her hide a wry chuckle.

He couldn’t
help but smile too about the way they both were pouting.

At his smile, Marissa
stopped trying to stifle her amusement. She laughed out loud.

“Does this mean
you forgive me?” he asked, trying to tear his eyes away from her beautiful,
laughing face.

“I don’t know.
You haven’t even apologized.”

“I
did
apologize.
I said you were right and that I was sorry. Do you expect me to get down on my
knees?”

Marissa raised
her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”

Caleb had to
close his eyes to hide a wave of desire at the thought of what he might do on
his knees in front of her.

“But mostly I
want you to admit that you weren’t just trying to help me.” Her voice had grown
serious again. “Admit it. That was some sort of silly cockfight.”

That would be
one way to put it.

“All right. I
did
want to help you, but I was also playing cowboy. The guy annoyed me, and I
wanted to put him in his place.”

Marissa didn’t
seem to question why the bastard had annoyed him so much. Her face relaxed into
a smile, and she seemed pleased at what she’d made him admit to.

“Plus, he was
in my seat,” Caleb added, hoping to lighten the mood.

This made her laugh
again, which was exactly what he’d intended.

“How was
rehearsal?” she asked, obviously trying to change the subject to something
neutral.

“It was fine.
Pretty good.” His answer was lie, but he habitually lied to her about things
like this. He did it naturally, unconsciously, without any malicious intent at
all. Anything that would make her worry, that would disappoint her, he always
just lied about.

She searched
his face, as if looking for clues about his sincerity. “Good. How’s the music?”

“It’s movie
music. It’s about what you’d expect.” His voice might have been just slightly
snide.

“You’re a music
snob. You know that, right?”

“I like all
kinds of music. What I don’t like is sappy, over-emotional tripe masquerading
as high art.”

Marissa laughed.
“Poor Caleb. Is it really bad, having to play that kind of music with the
orchestra?”

The truth was
it grated on him—like using a Renaissance masterpiece as a doorstop—but he
suspected that would only confirm her perception of him as a music snob, so he
didn’t say anything.

He couldn’t
stand the slight hint of concern in her eyes. She was the one who’d talked him
into taking a job where he had no control over the music he played, where he
had to constantly bow to someone else’s whims.

He didn’t like
that part of his job. He didn’t like a lot of his job.

But he also
didn’t want Marissa to feel bad or guilty about it.

“It’s fine,” he
said at last.

She relaxed and
smiled at him warmly. “You know how many musicians would kill for your job,
right?”

Caleb knew this
was true. Classical musicians might work their whole lives to get even third
chair in one of the top symphony orchestras—the ones that ran year-long, paid
well, and had benefits found almost nowhere else in the music world.

“I know that,”
he said, just slightly stiff.

“Is it just
because you can’t make all the decisions? Is that why it bothers you?”

“That’s part of
it,” he said cautiously.

“And I guess
you’re not center stage, like you were when you were doing concerts. Is it
hard—just being part of the orchestra?”

They’d never
talked about it so openly before, but he had to be careful about saying too much,
giving her more to worry about. “Maybe a little. But that’s not really the main
thing either.”

“Then what is
the main thing?”

He opened his
mouth but stopped himself before he said the words.

“Just say it,
Caleb.”

“I’m bored.” He
hadn’t intended to admit it, but the words just came out.

“Is it because
the music isn’t challenging? Because I know you’re doing the movie-music
concert now, but that’s just one out of a whole year’s worth of performances.”

“I know that.”
He needed to backtrack now. Big time. Her eyes were huge and anxious. “It’s not
a big deal. Really. It’s just different than what I used to do, so it’s taking
some time to get used to it. It’s really a great job.”

She put her
fork down and looked down at her half-eaten salad. “I really thought this would
be better for you.”

She was upset.
She was disappointed. He never should have said anything. “I know you did. It
is better.”

Her eyes darted
up. “You seem so much better now than you were last year. When I saw you in New
York…”

She trailed
off, but she didn’t need to finish. He’d been a wreck in every way when she’d
found him in New York. She’d come to attend one of his performances, but
instead she’d had to rescue him.

The two years
of touring after college were mostly a blur. He’d indulged. Too much. In
everything. He hated who he’d been back then, the man Marissa had found.

He was
determined not to let it happen again.

“Is that why
you hurt your hand? You were doing something for excite—” Her phone buzzed, and
she glanced at it automatically.

“Take it,” he
said, when it looked like she was going to silence the ringer.

She hesitated
briefly but ended up connecting the call.

Caleb was glad
for the interruption.

He watched her
face as she spoke briefly on the phone. Her eyes were intent, her cheeks
lightly flushed, and her supple lips mobile and expressive. It was a lovely
face and an intelligent one. One that was very familiar to him.

He knew it by
heart, knew it by memory, would know it forever.

He felt an
unexpected pull toward her, and it wasn’t only located in the predictable
region of his body. It was elsewhere as well. In his chest—a strange, heavy,
tight feeling tugging at him, drawing him toward her.

He didn’t like
it. Wished it would just go away. It was messing everything up, and he couldn’t
let that happen.

Marissa was the
best thing in his life.

A few nights
ago, Caleb had picked up a woman in a bar—in a desperate attempt to purge
himself of this desire for Marissa. The woman was young and plenty hot, and
they should have had a very good night.

They’d gotten
to her place, but he’d barely gotten to the bedroom when he’d been forced to
admit he couldn’t do it.

He’d gotten his
body to respond the way it should, but no other part of him wanted to fuck that
woman.

So he’d ended
up leaving before anything more happened.

After they
finished lunch and were walking out of the restaurant, Caleb had come to a few
inevitable conclusions.

This desire for
Marissa wasn’t going away on its own.

So he would
have to do something about it.

One of Caleb’s ex-girlfriends was
sitting with her husband across the jazz club from them.

Sharisse was
her name. Four years older than Caleb. Gorgeous, tall, willowy, with thick auburn
hair and huge brown eyes.

Marissa didn’t
like her at all.

She hadn’t been
a huge fan of any of Caleb’s girlfriends, but she had a particular antipathy
for Sharisse.

Caleb had dated
her two years ago, shortly after he’d started touring after college. She’d been
a bad influence on him from the beginning. With her, he’d drunk too much, gotten
too little sleep, and started believing all the hype about himself, which
caused him to treat other people inconsiderately.

Including
Marissa.

It wasn’t fair
to blame all of that on Sharisse, but Marissa had trouble not blaming her for
some
of it.

Fortunately,
he’d only dated the woman for two months.

It was water
under the bridge now. Caleb had recovered from that phase in his life and was
healthier in every way. But Marissa still wasn’t happy about seeing Sharisse
across the club that evening, sitting with her adoring, new husband.

Caleb hadn’t
seemed to notice Sharisse, but Marissa knew that his ex-girlfriend's presence
wasn’t something he could have missed.

He was acting
strange tonight. He’d been acting strange for three weeks now, ever since that
party when Marissa had fallen into the pool.

At first he’d
been cool and distant.

Now he was just
being…weird.

First, the way
he’d asked her to go with him tonight had been strange. They hung out together
all the time, but he always asked her to do things in a casual, offhand way.

But he’d made a
point of calling and explaining that someone he knew was giving a special
performance on the saxophone at this club tonight. He’d asked as if he cared
about her answer, and then he’d sounded pleased at her positive response.

Marissa had
immediately become suspicious. If it had been any time around her birthday, she
would have assumed he was planning a surprise party for her. Even now, she was
vaguely convinced he had something planned for tonight that didn’t involve simply
going to the club.

He was plotting
something. She was sure of it.

She just had no
idea what it was.

Marissa
shrugged off her baffled reflections and tried to focus on the performance. The
man who played looked around thirty and was one of the best-looking men she’d
ever seen.

He also knew
how to play the sax.

Caleb leaned
over in his chair until his mouth almost brushed her ear. “He’s better than I
was expecting.” His voice was low—as was necessary, given the context—but it
sounded unusually husky and textured. His warm breath wafted over the skin of her
face and neck.

She fought the
impulse to pull away from him.

She didn’t know
why he was leaning in so close, but she didn’t like it. It made her feel
restless and fidgety.

She didn’t want
to hurt his feelings, though, since she knew he didn’t mean anything by it, so
she made herself smile in response. “He’s fantastic. How do you know him?”

“I hung out
with his younger brother some, after college.”

Marissa knew
all of Caleb’s friends until he’d graduated, but there were a number she didn’t
know from those two years afterwards. “His family really owns James Coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of
name is Baron?”

“A family name,
I think.”

“It sounds like
he belongs in a racy historical romance novel.”

“I don’t think
he’d have a problem with that idea.”

She turned her
face toward Caleb, still smiling. Then swallowed hard when she realized he
hadn’t pulled back. So now their mouths were about an inch apart.

From this
proximity, she could see his face clearly, even in the dim light of the club.
His silvery-gray eyes were warm and fond. His lips were relaxed and supple. The
adorable little dent above his mouth seemed exaggerated in the deep shadows.
And his mouth was…

…just too
close.

Marissa backed
away, as discreetly as she could.

Caleb usually
liked his space—just like she did.

She could feel
him beside her. Actually
feel
him.

He seemed
inordinately big and hot and in her face this evening. It was unsettling. And
honestly rather annoying.

Now she was
feeling hot too. And kind of shivery at the same time. To her surprise and
irritation, she noticed goosebumps popping out on her arms.

As she should
have expected, Caleb noticed it too. Immediately. And there his mouth was, back
at her ear again. “Cold?”

Using the excuse
he’d offered—which was more convenient than trying to explain how she was
feeling a strange energy coming off him—she nodded without turning toward him.

Unfortunately,
her attempt to ease back into normal interaction backfired, since he
immediately, courteously reached around her back to help her pull her little
sweater around her bare shoulders.

It was an
innocuous, considerate gesture. One Caleb had performed for her hundreds of
times before. But this time when his hand brushed against her bare skin, she
had to force herself not to jerk away from his touch.

This was
ridiculous. She shouldn’t be feeling awkward and uncomfortable around him. Even
if he was being touchier than normal.

Even if his arm
remained draped across her shoulders!

What the hell
was wrong with him tonight?

His fingers
kept moving. Idly playing against her skin, since somehow they’d slipped underneath
the fabric of the sweater he’d so kindly replaced.

Marissa sat
stiffly and tried not to think about Caleb and his inexplicable behavior. Tried
not to dwell on the weight of his arm against her back.

In any other
man, she would assume he was making a move on her. But this was Caleb, and that
was just impossible. The notion couldn’t even be given space in her mind.

There must be another
logical explanation for it.

She just hadn’t
figured out what it was yet.

Then she
glanced back across the club and saw Sharisse glaring at the two of them
resentfully.

In that moment,
everything made perfect sense.

Marissa tried
not to fight an irrational indignation at the crystal-clear revelation.

It was human
nature, after all, for Caleb to want to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

It might be
conscious or unconscious—Marissa wasn’t really sure. But every human being knew
the feeling. If someone appeared unexpectedly who had hurt or insulted you in
the past, then you wanted to prove to that person that you were blissfully
happy without them.

That must be
why Caleb was being so touchy. Why he was acting like they were on a date or
something.

It bothered her
that he would still care enough about Sharisse to want to make her jealous, but
at least it made sense of his behavior this evening.

Marissa forced
her eyes back to Baron James and his sax. Sighed in relief when Caleb removed
his arm from the back of her chair.

Then he leaned
over to her again. “I guess he’s getting more involved in his family’s business
now, but he’d still rather have fun and play jazz.”

A harmless
comment. A random piece of information. But his lips actually brushed against
her ear this time.

Marissa
couldn't help it. She jerked away from him. Then flushed with mortification at
her instinctive reaction, her heart pounding wildly.

She couldn’t
remember the last time she’d felt this unsettled.

It hadn’t been
for years.

She couldn’t
help but sneak a glance at his face to see how he’d reacted to her obvious
rudeness.

His lips were
pressed together, his expression was clearly frustrated, and he’d pulled
himself stiffly away from her.

Marissa sighed.
She had hurt his feelings.

She knew he was
hurt, since he was all tense and distant and chilly. He made no further attempt
to touch her during the remainder of the performance.

Staring Baron
James blankly, Marissa tried to process what she was feeling. Embarrassment,
annoyance, guilt, and exasperation over how strange this whole evening had
been.

And relief. She
couldn’t deny it. She was really, really glad that Caleb remained in his own
space.

She made some
casual, friendly comments as Baron finished and the audience applauded. Her
attempt at reconciliation seemed to soothe Caleb’s wounded feelings because
soon he was his normal self.

They chatted
lightly while they stood up, and Marissa noticed Sharisse and her fatuous
husband snuggling shamelessly against the far wall.

Then it
happened. Just as they were stepping away from their table.

Caleb put his
hand on the small of her back.

Now, he had
always done something like that occasionally. It seemed automatic, unconscious
for him. Just an unthinking hand on her back to guide her along.

But this felt
different. This was purposeful, directed. And his hand wasn’t in its proper
location—near the middle of the back. It was instead very, very low. Almost
against the top of her butt.

The gesture
didn’t feel friendly or casual. It felt protective, territorial, almost
possessive.

And for some
reason it made Marissa furious.

“Stop it,” she
snarled, pushing his arm away from her.

Caleb stared at
her in astonishment, but obediently pulled his hand away. “Stop what?”

Her heart was
pounding again, and her face was flushed. “Stop using me like a convenient
body. I’m not here to be at your disposal.”

His mouth actually
dropped open, and his face flooded with confusion, annoyance, and then
something almost like guilt. “What are you talking about?” But his voice made
it sound like he already knew.

“I mean,” she gritted
out through clenched teeth, trying to keep her voice low since she really
didn’t want to have an argument in public, “stop using me to make your
ex-girlfriend jealous.” She jerked her head toward Sharisse to emphasize her
point.

If anything, Caleb
looked even more baffled. He peered in the direction Marissa had indicated, as
if he wasn’t aware that Sharisse was even present.

“I wasn’t. Why
the hell would I care enough to do such an inane thing?”

Exactly the
question that Marissa was wondering. And—for some reason—the question that
worried her the most.

She scowled at
him, trying to temper her anger, which she knew was irrational and uncalled
for. “She was sitting right across from us the whole time. Don’t bother telling
me you didn’t see her. And why else have you been all touchy tonight?”

Something grew
very still in Caleb’s face. “And this is the explanation you’ve come up with?”

There was a
quality to the composed, precise articulation of his words that made Marissa
stop short. It
did
sound ridiculous, now that she thought about it. No
wonder he was insulted.

She sighed
deeply and wished she could sink into the floor. “I’m sorry. It was stupid. I
guess you wouldn’t be so petty. But you’re confusing the hell out of me, and
that was the best explanation I could come up with.” She had a passing thought
that made her snicker. “Unless you suddenly find my luscious body so
irresistible that you can hardly keep your hands off me.”

Amused at the
absurdity of this suggestion, Marissa snorted at her own wit. Then she couldn’t
stop, and she burst into peals of helpless laughter.

Caleb didn’t
seem to find it quite so funny.

He was actually
glaring at her, waiting for her to stop laughing. In his dark shirt and
trousers, he was handsome and masculine. Even with his icy glare, Marissa
realized that most women would find him extraordinarily sexy.

How fortunate
for both of them that Marissa had no such inconvenient feelings.

“Sorry,” she
gasped, trying to pull herself together. “Although I’m not sure what’s happened
to your sense of humor. What’s gotten into you tonight?”

“Nothing.”
After a moment, he added, “I realize that I’ve been closing you out lately, so
I thought I would try to make more of an effort.”

And that
answered almost everything.

Marissa smiled,
immensely relieved. “That was awfully nice of you. But, just so you know, being
normal is the best way to make an effort.”

She hoped he
understood what she was saying—back off on the weirdness.

Earlier, she’d
sensed a tense, jittery, sick feeling emerging slowly from the darkness where
she’d hidden it—but now it was safely tucked away where it wouldn’t bother her.

He nodded,
smiled, and then looked away as they made their way through the lobby.

Marissa slanted
looks at him from the corner of her eye, and she was a little worried when she
noticed that he still looked a bit hurt and defensive.

She really
hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings by accusing him of trying to make his ex
jealous. She should have known better. It must be some kind of repressed
resentment and insecurity coming out about Sharisse.

She reached out
to put a hand on his arm. “I
am
sorry. Forgive me for being an idiot?”
She presented him with her best, puppy-dog expression.

He gave her a
reluctant smile in response. “As if I wouldn’t. You’ve certainly forgiven me
for enough.” He looked intently at her hand on his sleeve. Something about the
look made Marissa pull away. Then he continued, “Now, if you don’t think I have
some kind of underlying agenda, I was going to ask if you wanted to get something
to eat.”

Marissa clapped
her hands in delight, relieved that things were back to normal. “A dessert
place, please.”