The Fifth Favor (37 page)

Trust me on this, Nora. You need to be careful. Your carefree field-play is going to bite you in the ass one of these days.”

“And you won’t be here to crow about it. Think of all the I-told-you-so’s you’ll be missing.” Nora fiddled with a pen on the desk, then restlessly flipped it aside. “You big chicken. Running away never solves anything. You’re throwing away a potential million-dollar career, and don’t expect me to support your foolish decision. And if you think I’m going to feel guilty over this, you’re dead wrong.” Then she shooed Billie from her office, but not quite in time to hide the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

* * * * *

203

Shelby Reed

The movers spent the chilly, rainy afternoon hauling most of Billie’s belongings down to an orange truck parked in front of her apartment building. While they came and went, she jogged down the street to the neighborhood deli and returned with dinner for the four men, excluding herself. Nothing tasted good anymore, and she’d been too preoccupied with packing up her old life to even think about food. As a result, her jeans bagged in the rear and she had to cinch her belt another notch. There was no one to scold her. No one to worry about her. No one to love.

When she returned, the movers, a ruddy, amiable crew, grabbed their hoagies from her hands with ravenous enthusiasm and sat down in the middle of the box-strewn living room to eat.

Billie wandered listlessly through the apartment and double-checked to make sure she hadn’t left anything unpacked, then stood at her curtainless bedroom window and peered through the blinds at Wisconsin Avenue.

Somewhere out there, in the big, wide world, Christopher was building a new life.

Had his family disowned him? She thought of Rosalie and her capricious Italian passions. The woman loved her brother blindly, and Christopher’s truth would bruise her, perhaps, more than anyone else.

Had he withstood the anguish of it all? Had he fled Washington? Was he as big a coward as Billie?

Footsteps thudded on the parquet floor behind her. “Ms. Cort?” Frank, the foreman of the moving crew, hovered in the doorway, wiping his big hands on a paper napkin.

“We’re ‘bout done with supper, then we’re going to empty out the living room.

Anything you need that doesn’t go in the truck?”

She shook her head. “Take it all, Frank.” Turning back to the window, she gave the busy avenue one last look and her bleary gaze focused on a gleaming, navy blue BMW

parked across the street.

Immediately her heart bounded behind her breast. Then she scowled. How ridiculous. Christopher was gone. Done with Avalon. Done with her.

In the living room, the movers returned to their task. Heavy boots clomped out the door, low voices fading down the hallway as they disappeared with another load of boxes.

With a sigh, Billie let the shade drop and turned around.

And found Christopher Antoli filling the bedroom doorway.

“Hi,” he said, his dark gaze fixed on her face as though she were the only other person alive.

She forgot how to breathe. Nothing moved. Then he shifted and his car keys jangled in his fingers. “I thought you might have already left town.”

“That’s the idea.” She found her voice, hoarse with shock.

“I guess I was nearly too late.”

“Nearly.”
Breathe, Billie. Breathe.

204

The Fifth Favor

His throat moved as he swallowed. “I tried to call you several times. No one ever answered. No machine, nothing.”

Billie filled her lungs with a steadying breath and recovered. “If you’d called at your usual time, some ungodly hour of the night, you might have caught me.”

Amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been trying to keep more regular hours.”

“It’s about time.”

Christopher bit his lip and studied her across the ten feet that separated them. “I just wanted you to understand that my silence hasn’t been deliberate. I came by several times in the last couple of weeks, but you weren’t home. Today I went by
Illicit’s
office, and when the receptionist told me you’d quit, I tracked down Nora Richmond. Her secretary didn’t look too kindly on me bulldozing into the editorial office, but Nora probably wouldn’t have spoken to me otherwise.”

Billie nodded. “You’re right. Considering everything that’s happened, she probably would have hightailed it in the opposite direction if she’d seen you coming.”

But he’d trapped Nora in her office like a pinned rat, and the thought was supremely satisfying to Billie. She tried to picture the editor’s stunned expression as Christopher Antoli burst into her plush quarters, all determination and dark charisma.

Nora’s fear would be palpable as violent scenarios of his vengeful motives flickered across her wary mind. Then, because Christopher was…well,
Christopher
, she’d gradually forget about caution and alarm, and would most likely strike a pose, hand on one slim hip, head tilted, wide smile blazing charm across her features. “
Why, Adrian,
what brings you to my humble little office?
”

Billie could envision it all, and the urge to laugh stirred within her for the first time in days. She might miss Nora. Just a little.

“She told me you’d moved,” Christopher was saying, “but I decided to give it one last shot. You know—” he leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, his key ring rhythmically circling his finger, “maybe sneak into your building while the doorman’s back was turned and look in your mailbox.”

No glib rejoinder came to mind. She felt behind her for the windowsill and leaned her hips against it, too weak to stand. The sight of him stole her most basic motor skills.

“So where are you going?” he asked in the wake of her silence.

She blinked. “Atlanta.”

“What’s in Atlanta?”

More loneliness…and the chance to get over you
. “I won’t know until I get there.”

He wandered farther into the room, flushed from the cold, his masculine appeal so potent it fisted around her heart and squeezed away her breath. He looked less polished than usual. His jeans were faded in all the right places. His navy Georgetown Hoyas sweatshirt, though baggy and soft, did little to hide the breadth and strength of his shoulders. The drizzling rain had left sparkles in his dark hair.

205

Shelby Reed

Just a man.

Billie took shallow breaths to avoid being overwhelmed. Her emotions hovered on the edge of ruin, and if he said the wrong—or the right—thing, she’d dissolve.

“Atlanta’s a long way from Washington.” His shielded gaze scanned the box springs and mattress, the boxes stacked in the far corner. “Are you running away, Billie?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

Christopher nodded. “So am I.”

Squeezing her fingers against the wooden sill, she asked, “Where to?”

“Virginia. I got a job in Roanoke. My condominium is on the market. I’m putting that useless degree of mine to work.”

“How did you explain the last six years to your new employers?”

One eyebrow went up. “I’ve been traveling around the world.”

Billie couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t exactly a lie. “And what will you do at your new job?”

“Social work,” he said. “Something that matters.”

She thought of him descending the marble stairs at Avalon, so poised and polished and sleek beneath the glow of a crystal chandelier. “The pay will be lousy.”

“I don’t give a damn about the money.”

She stared at him, at a loss for what to say next. “You…you mean social work as in soup kitchens? Shelters?”

“Vocational rehab. I think I’ll be good at helping people make new lives. I’ve learned a hell of a lot about starting over in the last few weeks. A lot about regret, too, and letting go.”

“So have I.” She averted her eyes from his painfully handsome face. “Christopher, why are you here?”

“For a lot of reasons.” He twirled his keys, then clenched them in a fist. “I needed to see you again.”

She straightened, focused on him again. “What purpose does it serve, beyond upsetting both of us?”

“I’m sorry.” He took another step toward her. “I know it’s selfish, but I needed to see your face. To know if I was right.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that I struck out at you…unjustly. Harshly. That maybe I blew the one chance at happiness that’s come my way in eight long years.” Sadness imprinted itself in the downward curve of his mouth. “I needed to look into your eyes and be reminded of what I really want in this world. And now that I’ve looked, I see the pain I’ve caused. I never meant to hurt you or anyone else. Please believe me, Billie.”

206

The Fifth Favor

His gentle words stole another strip of decorum from her façade, tightening her throat until it ached. “You didn’t do all the wounding, Chris. I hurt you, too. The article—”

“Yes. The article.” He moved closer, a muscle working in his jaw as his dark gaze swept her from head to toe and back. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“But—”

“I owe you my gratitude.”

“Chris, for what? I made a mess of everything with my carelessness. I can’t write for these damn seedy magazines anymore. People inevitably get hurt. And this time—I hurt myself. I’m so sorry for what happened.”

“But you gave me the chance to set things right.” His voice dropped as he approached with measured steps. “You gave me no choice but to do the right thing and come clean. After you left my apartment, I wrote a letter to the DeChambeaus. I know I’ll never see them again. So much of my life died when Luke jumped off that balcony.”

He stopped and stared past her shoulder at the gray world outside. “I also went to my sister’s house and told her everything.”

Tears stung Billie’s eyes, welling faster than she could wipe them away. “Oh, God.

What did she say?”

He winced. “It was pretty ugly. She listened, and then she slapped the hell out of me.” His hand drifted to his jaw and humor curved his lips. “Nothing like a good sisterly backhanding to put everything into perspective.”

“She’s a tough cookie,” Billie said with a watery smile.

“That she is.” He drew closer again, so subtly she was only faintly aware that his warm, particular scent now teased her senses. “Rosie said some other things, too.”

“Oh?” She pressed herself back against the window ledge, trapped by the invisible electricity radiating off his graceful body.

“She asked me if I want you.” He paused, as if waiting for her to inquire what his response had been, but Billie only bit her lip and stared at him.

“I said yes.” He stopped a foot away from her, his eyes more richly dark and fathomless than her dreams had rendered them. “‘Make it so you do deserve her,’ Rosie told me. ‘Make it so you deserve love from all the people around you.’”

“She’s right, of course,” Billie said shakily.

“Rosalie’s always right.” His gaze glided over her hair, her face, down to her breasts, where it lingered as though he could read the nervous tick of her heart beneath her knit sweater. “And as for me, well…”

Billie strained forward, pulse wild in her veins, her attention rapt on his lips as she waited for the declaration that would set her cockeyed existence right again.

“I know now that I can’t live without the way you make me feel.”

She tried to focus on him through the blur of tears. “How do I make you feel?”

207

Shelby Reed

“Forgiven. Whole. And in the end…desperate. I’ll do anything for your love. Tell me what to do to win you back.”

Oh, God
. She tried to reply, to swallow the sobs marching up her throat, and failed.

Holding up a hand to keep him at bay, she choked, “Give me just a minute, okay? It’s been a hard few weeks.”

He stood there with his thumbs hooked in his front pockets and waited, watching her with loving regard while she struggled to regain equilibrium. The truth had always been in his eyes; she just hadn’t known to look deeply enough. But now she knew. Even as Adrian, when everything about him was cloaked in secrecy, his heart had been the vibrant spark in the black depths of that gaze. And somewhere along the way, he’d given it to her.

“Let me touch you,” he said softly. “Please.”

“No.” Billie flat-out wept as she held out a hand to stop him. “You had your chance to say all these things before I talked myself into living without you. It’s too late.”

“But my heart won’t listen. I hate myself for saying the things I did, for accusing you of a cruelty that you’re incapable of. I lie awake at night and everything in me hurts. My heart. My body. I miss your voice, your touch. Your smile. The lack of sleep’s killing me.”

The air between them vibrated with his sweet, plaintive words, so lush with emotion that she couldn’t breathe through it. She groaned and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “Please. You’re going to screw up my plans.”

“Ah, Billie, don’t cry.” He came forward and caught her wrists, pulling them gently from her face. “I don’t mean to make you sad. I’ll go. I’ll disappear from your life if that’s what you truly want.”

“But there’s a price, right? There’s always a price.” Her chest heaved from the struggle to cease her weeping. “What could you possibly want from me, when I feel like I have nothing left to give?”

“Just a kiss.” With a mild tug, he brought her against his chest. “It might buy me a few hours of sleep. Yes, Billie? Will you leave me with that?”

In reply, her lashes fluttered closed and she tilted her face up for his taking, her fists clenched between their bodies.

With careful reverence, he cupped her jaw in his hands, and then his mouth brushed hers, warm, slow, gentle. He tasted like mint and heat and passion.

Her breath caught in her throat. His rushed out with her name.

“Billie. You’re so soft,” he murmured, his kiss a gossamer caress. “So damned soft.

Your lips, skin, hair. Your feelings. Soft and sensitive.” His mouth nuzzled hers, teasing, lighting and lifting, until she strained for a firmer taste. The silence was agony. Any minute, boots would thud down the hall and the movers would shatter the crystalline promise hanging in the air.