STORM: A Standalone Romance (72 page)

The flight home was uneventful. Like before, we flew on a private jet. Miles held my hand silently through the takeoff and landing but spent the rest of the flight buried in emails and paperwork on his laptop. I curled up beside him and tried to concentrate on a novel I’d been reading for what felt like months, but unable to really get into the plot. I mostly just stared out the window at the heavy clouds that followed us from Massachusetts to Texas.

The house felt different when we walked through the door. Smaller, but cozier than I remembered. More like home than it had felt the entire four months I’d spent alone there. I called my aunts while Miles took our luggage upstairs, happier than words could express to hear their familiar voices. And I texted Lisa. I guess I just needed to check in with the people I loved, to reconnect in the wake of these long, dark days.

I’m not much of a cook, but I can open a can like no one else. I warmed up some soup and made toast, taking a tray up to the master bedroom for Miles. The door was open, and he was sitting on the end of his bed staring at a photograph when I tapped on the doorjamb.

“You need to eat.”

“So do you.” He dropped the photo face down on the bed and came toward me, slipping the tray out of my hands. “Let’s go downstairs and eat at a table like normal people.”

I led the way, and we settled in the kitchen in a small nook by the bay windows that overlooked the front drive. The soup was salty, but it was better than anything else I could have thrown together. We ate in silence for a few minutes. Then he cleared his throat—even as he continued to stare out the windows.

“Thank you for what you did for my father.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“And you did. You got him settled in a way I couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry for what he said to you. He was just grieving.”

“I know. But he wasn’t completely wrong.”

Miles picked up a piece of toast, but he just shredded it between his fingers. I watched, trying to be patient. I didn’t want to force him into telling me something he didn’t want to share. Yet, I so desperately wanted to know what he meant that I was afraid to frighten him out of saying it, too.

“I did run away. I abandoned my family at a time when I really shouldn’t have. And when I found out my mom was sick, I should have gone back. But I screwed up and I was afraid of facing the consequences of that.”

“Whatever you did, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“It’s not so much what I did. It’s what I refused to do.”

I studied him, trying to read between the lines, trying to figure out what he was talking about. But I couldn’t begin to guess.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You already thanked me.”

“No. Thank you for going there with me. For staying when everything fell apart. For being at the funeral today. It couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“Where else would I go?”

He looked at me, his jaw loosening, as though he wanted to say something. But he seemed to change his mind. Instead, he reached across the table and squeezed my hand lightly. Then he stood and walked out of the room.

I washed the dishes, feeling disconcerted. Part of me wanted to run upstairs and demand he talk to me some more. That he tell me what was really going on with him. But another part of me felt like I should just pack my bags and go back to my aunts’, that my time with him was over, like I was overstaying my welcome. I didn’t know what my role was supposed to be in all this. I needed him to tell me, to explain what was going on here, what he wanted from me, and how much I was supposed to ask of him. Because, at the end of the day, this was a marriage of convenience. When we were alone—despite that almost magical night five days ago—we were still basically strangers perpetuating a fraud on everyone around us.

But then, why did I want to hold him in my arms and make his pain disappear? Why did I want to make promises to him that I had no place making?

I went up to bed a little while later. He’d laid my bags on my bed so I wouldn’t have to lift the heavy things myself. Very considerate.

I unpacked, tossing my dirty things in the wash and rehanging what wasn’t wrinkled beyond repair. Then I showered and curled up in bed, wondering if he was asleep or if he was watching television as I’d discovered he was apt to do when sleep wouldn’t come.

Sharing a room had introduced me to a lot of little quirks about Miles’ personality that I realized I actually kind of liked. The way he almost obsessively folded his clothes when he took them off, the way he brushed his teeth up and down inside of side to side, the little noises he made when he was sleeping, and the scent of his soap and his cologne overwhelming the room after his shower.

It was stupid, really. But I’d gotten used to all those little things these past few days. The room suddenly seemed very empty without him in it.

Even as that thought crossed my mind, a soft tap came on the door. I crawled out of bed and opened the door a crack, standing behind it to hide the skimpy t-shirt I was sleeping in.

Miles worked his jaw, acting again as though he had something he needed to say. And then he abandoned speech, taking my face into his hands and drawing me into him, his lips on mine before I could so much as utter a sound. I went to him most willingly, my body opening to him as though I’d been waiting days for him to ask. Maybe I had been waiting.

He pushed me backward until we landed on the bed, immediately tangled in each other’s limbs. I pulled at his shirt, and he tugged at mine. Our hands seemed to be everywhere at once, my fingers burying themselves in the flexing muscles of his back, his fingers seeking out the softer flesh of my hip, my ass. There was an ache he awakened days ago that was back as though no time had passed, a need that took my breath away and destroyed any logic that might have been floating around in the back of my fevered mind.

His mouth was at my throat, his teeth nipping, as he moved slowly down over my collarbone and down along the top of my breast. And then my nipple was in his mouth, his tongue playing around the bottom half of it before he drew it deep inside, pulling a groan from deep in my belly. He gave equal attention to my other nipple, another moan slipping out. I ran my fingers through his long hair, tugging at it until he hit a spot that made pleasure rush to my swollen clit.

He moved lower on my body, peppering my belly with hot kisses as his fingers slowly peeled away my panties. And then his mouth…I can’t even put into words what it felt like when he touched me there, when his tongue danced a little dance around my clit, when his breath washed over those sensitive areas, when his fingers…it was unbelievable. I arched up against him, my body becoming one big ball of nerves, and every nerve quivering with the overwhelming number of pleasure impulses bouncing over them. If I had known how good this could be, maybe I wouldn’t have waited so long to experience it.

He pushed me until I was tasting blood because I bit down so hard on my lip, pushed until I couldn’t lay still, until my fingers were buried so deep in his hair that it must have hurt, though he never tried to separate the two. He pushed me until I couldn’t catch a breath without a moan coming out with the exhalation. Only then did he slide back up the length of my body. Only then did he capture my lips again, the taste of my arousal sweet and meaty on his tongue. I could feel his hand between our bodies and a shiver of anticipation danced down my spine. Whatever it was that made me hesitate before was nowhere to be found today. There was just Miles and this incredible need that seemed too much to control.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against my lips. “I didn’t want it to be like this, but I need you.”

I pressed my hips up against him and welcomed him into me, as he let go a sound of such emotion—filled with relief and gratitude and pleasure and pain and a million other things I couldn’t even begin to identify. His hands moved around my hips to pull me even closer to him. I lay still for a moment once he was filling me with everything he had to offer, his breathing rough as he kissed me again, a kiss that was more a mingling of breaths than passion. I expected—I don’t know what I expected that first time. The physical was less and so much more than I had thought it would be. But there was so much emotion going on, so much connection, such a combination of needs and desires and wants and…and.

He began to move slowly, carefully, conscious of my comfort. And that just added to the incredible sensitivity of it all. I touched him, ran my hands over his back, wanting to give him as much as he was giving me. I didn’t know, but when I listened to his hands, to the way he encouraged me, I learned. And it was an amazing lesson. In moments, we were moving in a rhythm that was perfection. That burning need deep in my belly grew and grew, aching until I thought I would go mad with it. But then it seemed to hit a limit and burst, spreading through me until all I could do was wrap my legs around Miles’ waist and go along for the ride.

He pulled me closer to him, cradling my body as tight to his as he could. A low wail left his lips. He buried his mouth against my shoulder, the sound muffled but not gone. We clung to each other, the waves crashing, but slowly residing. We didn’t speak as we lay there. But we didn’t separate. Our hands began to explore again, bringing one another back to that peak. And then we rode the waves again, eventually falling asleep curled in each other’s arms.

I was alone when I woke the next morning. But there was a rose on my bedside table.

Every year, around the Thanksgiving holidays, the Waco Chamber of Commerce has a huge gala to raise money for multiple local charities. Not only is it all for a good cause, but it’s one of those social events in which only the elite of the elite are invited. Everyone on the outside watches with eagle eyes, admiring and criticizing—all at the same time—the amazing ball gowns, the tailored tuxedos, and the couples wearing them. I can remember hearing my aunts talk about it when I was still too young to care much about that sort of thing. And I remember pouring over the newspaper articles about the gala with Lisa.

Lisa always dreamed of going. She even knew what she was going to wear, down to the purse she would carry. I was a supportive friend, always reassuring her that she would, indeed, go one day. But I was never all that interested. That is until Joan called me one afternoon and asked if I wanted her to help me chose a dress for this year’s affair.

Miles had kept his distance since that night. He told me he was swamped with work and, from the number of hours he was working, it seemed like there was some honesty laced through his lies. However, I knew he was avoiding me for other reasons. And maybe that was a good thing. If he’d continued to spend time with me, I might have begun to think he shared the feelings I was struggling with.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him. And it wasn’t just because sex with him had been incredible. And not just because I still wanted to help him deal with his grief. There was more…so much more. I knew I was falling in love with him, but this was bigger than that. This felt almost like obsession. And I was embarrassed by it.

I was becoming a walking, talking, romance-novel heroine—and I hated it.

I tried to keep myself busy. I read a lot. Checked in with my aunts’ new caretaker more often than was necessary. Shopped more than I ever had before. I even took a few free college courses over the internet just to have something to do. But, no matter what I did, my thoughts kept moving back to Miles.

I found myself waiting up for him at night just to catch a glance of him as he came, exhausted, up the stairs. And then I set my alarm so that I could see him before he snuck out early in the mornings. I’d even dropped by his office once or twice, hoping to catch him there. Unfortunately, he spent so much time on site at his construction projects that I’d missed him. Yet, I’d tried—and that was humiliating enough. I felt like a pre-teen with an unwanted crush on the quarterback.

Lisa was beyond thrilled when I called and asked her to shop for a dress with me. I wanted something that would make it impossible for Miles to take his eyes off of me, and I knew Lisa would be the one who could help me do that. We spent three days walking through the most exclusive stores in Waco, Dallas, and Fort Worth. Lisa tried to talk me into skimpy little pieces of fluff, dresses that barely covered my ass, let alone anything else. I had to keep reminding her this was a respectable event, so the perfect dress would need to be both sexy and classy. I was beginning to worry that she couldn’t grasp what it was I wanted until we wandered into this little hole in the wall shop in Denton.

It was the last thing Lisa held up as we searched the racks, a tiny slip of a black dress that I started to dismiss without really looking at it. But then she held it against her body and I began to see the subtlety that made it perfect.

It was floor length, a lovely asymmetrical dress with multiple layers in the skirt that made it look like the petals of a flower just beginning to bloom. The top was a sweetheart with a low back, showing so much skin that I briefly worried about comfort. But it was so beautiful, and it made my curvy figure look like it was made for just this kind of dress. I couldn’t believe how perfectly it fit. I couldn’t have found a better dress if I’d had one custom made. And Lisa found this lovely shawl that went perfectly with it. The only thing missing was a piece of jewelry that would be a showcase around my neck. But I knew my aunts had some old, family jewelry at the house that might include the perfect piece.

Lisa was so excited that I was going to the gala that she insisted on paying for a spa day for the two of us the day of the event. That was the first time I really began to feel that I might find a place in this lifestyle my marriage had shoved me into. It was perfectly luxurious to have some stranger offer a massage while another stranger slathered mud all over my face. My skin was so soft afterward that I nearly bought every skin product they offered.

“He’s going to fall over when he sees you,” Lisa said later that night as she helped me do my makeup. “You might not get out of the house.”

“I will, actually. Joan called just a bit ago and said he’s running late and asked that I met him there.”

“That sucks,” Lisa groaned. “You’ll have to walk in alone, and that’s when most people get to show off the most, walking up that fake red carpet.”

I shrugged. I wasn’t really interested in getting my picture in the newspaper.

“Maybe next year we’ll all go together,” Lisa said a moment later, her voice a little wispy. “I’ve been talking to Colin Parsons off and on.”

“Have you?”

“He’s been busy with work and everything, but he said he would like to take me out if he can ever get back to Texas.”

“The two of you must have really hit it off at the wedding.”

“I didn’t think so at first.” Lisa stood back a little, assessing my eye shadow. Then she moved forward, pressing her brush to my eye again. “But then he started texting me like a month ago.”

“Just be careful, Lisa. He’s an actor. And if he’s anything like Miles…”

“Things are going well between you and Miles, aren’t they?”

It depends on your definition of well.

“They’re fine,” I said, even as I found myself wondering if I was lying, or just deluding myself.

“He adores you,” Lisa said softly. “I almost cried at your wedding when you froze up and he went over there to bring you down the aisle. That was probably the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely. I hope the guy I marry would be inclined to act that way. But I’ll probably end up marrying the kind of man who’d just get pissed and storm off.”

“I doubt it. If he loves you enough to ask you to marry him, he’ll already know he has to be extremely patient with you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Lisa grunted, but she was smiling when I opened my eyes. “But, seriously, I can’t tell you how happy I am for you, Riley. I kind of knew you’d be the first to get married between the two of us. But I’m thrilled you find a good guy like Miles.”

“I never believed myself I’d get a guy like him,” I admitted. But, again, I still wasn’t sure he was really mine.

My phone buzzed, the new smartphone Miles got for me when we were first married. A text informed me that the limo Joan had arranged was here.

“Time to go.”

I stood and brushed my hands over my skirt, straightening it around my hips. Lisa took my arms and led me over to the full length mirror.

“His eyes are going to pop out of his head when he sees you.”

I stared at my reflection, shocked at how amazing I really did look. I’m not a self-centered person—far from it—but even I couldn’t find a flaw with what I saw. The dress flowed perfectly over my body, showing off the good things and hiding the bad. Lisa pinned my hair up in a fancy French knot that framed my face just right, making my normally nondescript eyes pop. And the makeup was so well done that it might have been done by a professional.

“Lisa, you are a miracle worker.”

“It’s easy when I have such a palette to work with.”

Tears burst into my eyes and I turned to hug her. “I wish you were coming.”

“Next year.”

She pushed me back and pressed a tissue to the bottom of my eye to keep the tears from spilling. “Don’t mess up all my hard work now.” She touched my chin lightly. “Remember every detail so you can tell me about it tomorrow.”

“I will.”

“And have a good time.”

I nodded, but as I rode in the back of the limo all by myself, I knew that a lot of what happened tonight would depend on Miles. We hadn’t been out in public together since his mother died. There hadn’t been any dinner parties, no meetings with clients that required socializing. I wasn’t sure if that was because he was still catching up from the time we’d been away, or if he’d just chosen not to include me. So this would be our first appearance in a month.

I was as nervous as though it was our first.

We reached the hotel where the party was being held in just a few minutes, but the line of cars waiting to unload their passengers was impossibly long. I think we sat there for half an hour. I wanted to text Miles, to find out if he was already waiting inside for me, or if I’d have to mingle alone for a period of time. I’d never done that before and the prospect made me glad I chose not to eat before getting dressed this evening.

When the car finally pulled up to the red carpet, I could see the crowd of reporters gathered along the edges. It was almost like a Hollywood premiere, just on a much smaller scale. This was Waco’s claim to fame, outside of our pretty awesome college football team. News outlets from all over Texas were here to cover the event. However, they looked bored at the moment. I was pretty confident they would remain that way as I climbed out of the car.

I was wrong.

“Over here, Mrs. Thorn.”

“Could you turn this way, Mrs. Thorn?”

“Why didn’t you and Miles come together, Mrs. Thorn?”

“Is there trouble in paradise?”

“How is Miles holding up after the death of his mother?”

The questions came at me from every direction. I didn’t know which way to focus, so I just kept my eyes on the entrance to the hotel and tried not to trip over my own toes. I kept a smile plastered to my face because that’s what Joan had told me to do before the first event the three of us attended together, but it was much harder than it looked. And when they asked about Miles, it was even harder.

Just as I reached the main doors and a bellboy gestured for me to follow him, a reporter snuck up behind me.

“Could you tell me about your husband’s connection to the Donaldson family?”

I made the mistake of making eye contact. I glanced back at the woman—a gorgeous brunette with perfect skin—my smile faltering.

“Who?”

“The Donaldson family of New York. Do you know what his connection is to them? Or why his father made a million dollar payment to them late last year? Or why members of the Donaldson family have been seen lurking around your husband’s construction sites?”

I had no idea what she was talking about.

Donaldsons?
Seemed like a perfectly innocuous name. And what did it matter what Jackson Thorn did? How was that connected to Miles? And so what if he hired some members of that family to work at his construction sites? His company hired all kinds of people, and Miles didn’t always have anything to do with it. Why was all of this news worthy?

I turned away without acknowledging any of her questions and followed the bellboy into the hotel lobby. Dozens of people were milling around, greeting one another before going into the actual ballroom. There were too many people for me to take in, let alone spot Miles’ familiar face among the dozens of unfamiliar ones.

“Can I take this?” a man asked, touching the corner of my shawl.

I nodded, releasing my chokehold on it as he carefully slipped it away. I brushed my hands over the front of my dress, tugging a little to make sure it fell just the way it was supposed to. When I looked up, I felt eyes on me. And there were, more than I would have anticipated. Men watching with something like admiration, women watching with a mixture of envy and jealousy. I’ve always been the girl who fades away into the background, the quintessential wallflower. Yet, tonight, I was as far from that mousy girl than I’d ever imagined possible.

A blush burned my cheeks as I froze, suddenly unsure why I was there, let alone what I should do next. Panic rose in my chest, that kind of panic that comes when you know you’re about to make a fool of yourself, but you don’t know what to do to stop it. But, just like the last time I felt such panic, Miles suddenly stepped out of the crowd and held his hand out to me.

“You look…” His voice was deep, rough, almost. His eyes moved over the length of me, pausing here and there before coming back up to my eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

I started to bite my lip, but caught myself. I moved closer to him and whispered, “I don’t know what to do.”

“You let me escort you inside and allow everyone to admire just how beautiful you really are.”

I blushed, more because of the honesty in his eyes than the words his spoke. Then he kissed my temple and my panic just washed away. I had this sudden sense that as long as Miles was at my side, I could face anything. And that was more dangerous than falling in love with the man.